Lady of Storms
by Whisper292
Summary: In this ongling serial, which is a revamp of Soulless, follows the adventures of Amelia Degarmo as she works as a mercenary and tries to discover why she's being assisted by a mysterious supernatural influence. Warning: contains spoilers for ESO's Daggerfall Covenant questline.
1. LOS 1 - Assassination Plot

Lady of Storms One

Assassination Plot

Abject terror. That was the first and last thing she remembered. She had been taken out of her bedroll by several masked thugs and rendered unconscious with some kind of spell. When she awoke, she was stripped of her armor and weapons, bound on an altar, and a high elf was standing over her with a blade, chanting. She didn't even have time to scream before the blade came down and she blacked out.

Amelia Degarmo opened her eyes in her own bed, and if not for the fact that she was wearing someone else's armor, she might have thought the mage and the altar had just been a terrible dream. Well, the armor and the pain in her chest. Just over her heart was a puncture wound the size of a dagger's tip, not deep enough to kill her, but significant nonetheless. How in the name of the Divines had she survived that, and how had she gotten back here?

"What a week I'm having," Amelia muttered to herself.

"Well, well," said a masculine voice. "Look who's finally awake."

She looked up to see a man standing in her bedroom doorway, one she knew well. Jakarn—thief, spy, sometimes lover, and good friend—stood there, flipping a coin in the air and smiling at her. She often favored elves—except for the snarling Altmer who had stuck a dagger in her chest, of course—or more elvish Bretons; but Jakarn was drop-dead gorgeous, with silky dark hair, big blue eyes, and a baby face. And oh, did he know it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him. "What am _I_ doing here?"

"Kaleen pulled you out of the ocean, and I brought you home and stuck around to make sure you were all right. I was starting to wonder; that was a couple of days ago. And hey, get this: you were glowing."

"What? What do you mean, I was glowing?"

"You had this pale, yellow aura around you. Somebody or something was looking out for you, probably to keep you from drowning."

"You know I don't believe you, right?"

An injured expression crossed his face. "Aw, Red, would I lie to you?"

"Absolutely. You said Kaleen saved me? Are you serious?" Amelia and the captain of the _Spearhead_ had history, and not a pleasant one. She had helped the captain recover a powerful artifact some months back, and Kaleen had wanted to use it for the benefit of the Daggerfall Covenant. But the artifact was dangerous and already responsible for many deaths. It was best if it was destroyed, and Amelia had done so, but her decision hadn't set well with Kaleen. The captain had unceremoniously kicked Amelia off her ship.

"You may not get along, but that doesn't mean she wants you dead," said Jakarn.

"But how did I get in the ocean?"

"No idea. Well, now that you're okay, I have somewhere I have to be."

"Just like that?"

"_Are_ you okay?"

That was Jakarn; he never stayed in one place longer than absolutely necessary. Unless he thought he was going to get laid, and he probably figured Amelia wasn't in the mood, having just awakened from being stabbed in the chest.

She shrugged. "I'm okay, considering. You go, love. I'll be all right."

Jakarn walked into the room, sat down on the bed, and placed a kiss on her forehead. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"No, I don't. I never know where to find you; you always just sort of show up."

With a chuckle, he said, "No way, I'm a changed man! I'm a dedicated crewman on the _Spearhead_ now."

"Aye, until Kaleen kicks you off the ship. Thanks for watching over me, Jakarn."

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay awhile?"

He might of offered, but Amelia could tell by his tone of voice that he was itching to go. He'd sat still for a couple of days, much longer than he liked. "No, I'm fine. Hungry, but fine."

"Then, I'll see you soon, my dear." He kissed her on the mouth this time, just a quick peck, and then he left the apartment.

Amelia got up and went to find some food. She shared the top floor of a tailor's shop with Kireina Skaarsgard, a soft-spoken Nord and her dearest friend. Kireina wasn't home; she was probably out on some quest. It was what they did. There were mercenaries and spent a lot of time doing "odd jobs" for the people of High Rock. Sometimes they adventured together, but Amelia had been alone when she was taken.

She ate some bread, cheese, a handful of grapes, and drank a glass of wine, then went back to her bedroom and stood before the mirror. She was short, even for a Breton, with blue eyes and red hair which she kept cut in a bob and usually tucked behind her ears to reveal the earrings which she collected obsessively. Men had told her she was beautiful, but she had always thought her cheeks were too soft. They gave her a pixieish look and made her look younger than she was. Today, she was pale, and her eyes were puffy. She would have thought several days of sleep would have rested her enough to alleviate the puffiness. Someone had placed a couple of rough stitches in the wound on her chest, and though it was sore, it was healing. She picked up a comb and ran it through her hair but groaned. "Oh, screw it," she said, and plopped down on the bed.

She needed rest, she was sure of it; but as she lay there, Amelia realized she wasn't the least bit tired. Maybe she should have asked Jakarn to stay for a while, because when she closed her eyes, she could see the Altmer standing over her, dagger in hand, ready to pierce her heart. Gods, no. It was time to get up. She climbed out of bed, dug into her stash of gold, and headed toward the market to replace her weapons and good armor. The armor she was wearing was cute, but it showed a lot of skin. If she kept it—which she might, because it fit nicely—it would need a lot of enchantments to protect her.

Once she was properly armed and armored, she would find work. Anything, just so long as she didn't have to sit in her room alone and think.

* * *

Amelia spent the next few weeks alone; she heard Kireina was doing a job that took her all the way to the Alik'r Desert, and she missed her friend. After what had happened, she could have used the company. She did a few jobs and trained a lot, keeping herself busy and glad for any distraction she could find.

One morning when she was out and about, Giblets the dog ran up to her. He was a mixed-breed with brown fur and a constantly wagging tail. He belonged to a man named Roy, whom she had run a few interesting errands for in the past. He was a nice guy, affable and generally unassuming, but Amelia got the idea from the jobs he sent her on that he knew a lot more about the inner workings of Daggerfall than he let on.

"Hi, Giblets!" she cooed, scratching the pup behind the ears.

Giblets whined and ducked his head, his tail tucked between his legs, very uncharacteristic for the friendly mutt.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

He whined again and turned to slink away, but then turned back and keened at her. He did it a couple of times, and she realized he wanted her to follow.

"All right, I'm coming."

He led her through town, stopping every now and then to sniff something on the trail, finally coming to the pond next to the mill. He sloshed into the shallow water and stopped at a small hillock toward the back, where Amelia found what he wanted her to see. It was Roy, lying dead in a pool of blood.

"Oh, no," she groaned as she knelt to examine the body. He had died of stab wounds, and recently. He didn't have much on him, just a dagger, a coin purse, and a damp shopping list—and an odd one at that. It called for three blood oranges from the grocer, a crescent-emblem cloak from the tailor, and black roses with thorns from the florist. She had never even heard of blood oranges and black roses.

Before she could say, "What an odd shopping list," a man wearing dark leather armor and wielding two daggers leapt out from behind a sickly looking vine in the back corner of the pond and advanced on her.

"What in the void?" she cried, dodging a swipe from one of the daggers and quickly drawing her own swords. She wasn't fast enough, though, and he stabbed her in the shoulder, in the only spot the Argonian armor left exposed. It was a shallow cut, but it stung. She rolled out of the way before he could get another shot in, centered herself, and swung with her blade, catching him in the chest as well. Her swords were longer than his daggers and he was unable to dart in and strike at her, but he was still quick and she had a time taking him down. She finally delivered a devastating jab to his side and he collapsed dead in the water.

Amelia looked up to see Giblets cowering in a corner. "Come on, boy," she said, kneeling before him and rubbing his head and back soothingly. "Let's go find a town guard and tell him what happened."

She told the first guard she saw about Roy and her assailant; and after asking her a few questions, he let her go and went to examine the crime scene. He didn't seem interested in the shopping list, but Amelia was curious, so she took it to the florist's kiosk in the marketplace.

The florist, who she thought was named Diane, smiled when she approached. "Good morning," she said. "Can I interest you in a posy to gain a sweetheart's favor perhaps?"

"Not today. I was thinking of black roses with thorns."

Diane's eyes widened as she noticed the cut on Amelia's chest. "What happened?"

"I found a body in the pond by the mill. You probably know him; he owns the dog, Giblets. He was carrying this list." She handed her the list.

The florist sighed. "Oh, that's a pity. Poor Roy, looks like he finally got himself killed."

"And almost me. I was attacked near his body, I assume by the same man who killed him."

"Are you all right?"

Amelia shrugged. "Just a scratch, really. Believe me, I've had worse. Thanks for your help."

"Be careful. I'd hate for Roy's fate to befall you."

From the florist, she went to the grocer, who was sorting vegetables at his stand. Amelia knew Christoph Lamont a bit better than the florist because she and Kireina frequented his establishment. "Good morning, Red," said the blond Breton when she stepped up. "What can I get for you today?"

"How about three blood oranges?"

Christoph looked all around and then leaned in close. He whispered, "Why would you ask about that?"

"I found a list on a dead body."

"That's a phrase from the King's Intelligence Network. It means somebody is going to get killed. Look, you didn't hear this from me. I don't want any trouble."

"I understand, but trouble seems to have found me."

"I don't know anything else. Just leave me be. Ask Roy; sounds like something he'd be interested in."

"Roy's dead."

"Oh, sweet Mara. Listen, Roy was a friend; I trusted him. But I don't really know you, and I _don't_ trust you."

"Come on, Christoph. I need some help here."

"I can't help you, Red. I'm just a simple grocer. People talk, and I listen. Then I talk to my friends, like Roy."

"And yet you understood a coded message from the King's Intelligence Network."

"Look, I've told you what I can. What you do with that information is up to you."

Amelia sighed. "Thanks, Christoph. I'll leave you alone now."

"Hey, Red?" he said, catching her arm as she turned away. "Be careful, you hear?"

"You too. Thanks again. Come on, Giblets."

But the dog didn't move. He lay down at Christoph's feet.

"I'll take care of him," the grocer said.

She left the marketplace, stopping on the way to the tailor's and pressing gently on the wound to assess whether it needed stitches or not. It wasn't deep enough to worry about it, so she just left it. Damn Argonian armor. The leather jack left part of her chest and shoulder exposed, but before today she had never taken a blow to the area. It was a small spot, more of an embellishment than a chink—so it hadn't concerned her before today. Besides, the cuirass looked good on her. She knew it was shallow, that she should be more interested in protection than appearance, but she was a bit vain—she couldn't help it. Maybe she would have to reconsider that.

Amelia headed up the hill to the Winvale's Winsome Loom, which was by the south gate. Kareem Winvale didn't have a kiosk; he was inside, and his store always smelled like freshly washed cotton. He was her landlord, and she knew him well. He was a nice guy, and he didn't harp about the rent being late when both she and Kireina were away on a job. He knew they were good for it. When she walked into the shop, he looked up from his chair behind the counter, where he sat working on an embroidery pattern.

"Did you finally decide to let me make that green silk dress for you?"

"Kareem, I told you I don't wear dresses."

"More's the pity. What can I get for you?"

"I was looking for a cloak with a crescent emblem."

"I'm afraid those aren't for sale," he said cautiously.

"Really? Because I found a shopping list on a dead man."

"Dead man?"

Amelia nodded. "His name was Roy."

With a sigh, he said, "I knew him. Well, I'm sorry he's dead, but I'm not surprised. Roy had a way of finding trouble. I liked Roy. He was good to Daggerfall's merchants. In exchange, we gave him information. He never told me as much, but I'm sure he worked for King Casimir. Have you reported the crime?"

"I talked to a city guard."

"Go to Captain Aresin. He usually patrols the wall between the Mages Guild and the castle."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Kareem."

"Come back if you change your mind about the dress. And for Divines' sake, be careful."

"Aye, people keep telling me that."

She had never spoken to Captain Aresin, but she knew who he was. He was a sweet-faced man in his mid-thirties, with a shaven head, warm green eyes, and adorable, slightly pointed ears. She made her way to the wall behind the Mages' Guild, but before she could reach him, another assailant darted out from a dark corner. Amelia stepped out of the way and brought an elbow to his head when he lunged by, then yanked the dagger out of his hand and threw it. He drew a second dagger, but instead of stabbing at her, he turned it around and hit her with it. She reeled from the blow to her temple, and for just a moment she thought she was about to feel another blade piercing her skin.

But he didn't stab her. He just grabbed her by the hair and growled, "Stop meddling in our affairs." Then he disappeared back into the shadows.

"Whose affairs!" she shouted after him. Shaken, she took a moment to clear her head and then went up the stairs to find the captain.

He was easy to pick out as he stood on the wall with a handful of guards. His armor was more elaborate than the others', and well, he was pretty. She walked up and said his name, and when he looked at her, a small smile crossed his lips. "Welcome to Daggerfall," he said coolly.

"Actually, I live here, but thanks. I was told to come see you."

He furrowed a brow and studied her critically. "Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"I was assaulted at the bottom of the stairs."

The captain reached out and gingerly touched what would probably turn out to be a nasty bruise to her temple, an act that was too personal for a stranger, but Amelia found she didn't mind. He turned to one of his guards. "Healing potion," he barked, and the guard went to a nearby crate and produced a red vial. He brought it to Amelia, who gulped it down. The pain started to ease up right away.

"Now," said Aresin. "What happened?"

"I have information from Roy."

"Roy? Why did he send a stranger in his place?"

"He's dead." She handed him the note. "You might want to see this."

"Mara's hands!" he muttered as read the shopping list. "How did you come across this?"

"His dog led me to him. Roy was murdered; the killer attacked me too."

"You were injured in the fight?"

She pointed to the shallow gash in her chest, which was also fading thanks to the potion. "This was earlier. I killed that one, although the one down the stairs got away from me. I told one of the town guards about the murder, but I haven't had a chance to tell anybody about—" She swallowed a huge lump in her throat. "Sorry. It just now happened and my adrenaline is . . . I'm not used to getting attacked in my own city, especially twice in one day. I can handle myself, I swear."

"I'm sure you can. Take time to catch your breath." He waited while Amelia bent over and put her hands on her knees, gasping for air. When she stood to full height again, he said, "Did you know the guard you told about the murder? I'll have to get ahold of him."

"I don't know his name, I'm sorry."

"What's your name?"

"Amelia Degarmo. Or you can call me Red. Half of Daggerfall calls me Red."

"Amelia," he said with a smile. "I need to find out who's behind this."

"The one who hit me told me to stay out of their affairs. Makes me want to learn more too. The florist told me it meant somebody was going to die. It's an assassination plot, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I just don't know who the target is. Talk to Grenna at the Rosy Lion Inn. Tell her what happened and see if she knows anything; then report back to me."

"I know Grenna."

"Good. And Amelia, don't try anything funny. I'm asking for your help because you're already involved and for some crazy reason I want to trust you, but if I find out you're in any way responsible, I'll cut you down."

"Fair enough. I'll go see Grenna."

Amelia and Kireina had spent enough time at the Rosy Lion to know most of its regular patrons, and she wasn't all that fond of Grenna gra-Kush. The orc was outspoken, rude, and could be downright hostile when the mood struck her, which was often. Amelia wasn't in the mood to deal with a temperamental Orsimer today, but she didn't have a choice so she steeled herself and went to the inn. She found Grenna in her regular spot, a table by the cooking fire, and sat down across the table from her.

"I'm busy!" Grenna snarled. "Can't you see I'm drinking here?"

"Captain Aresin sent me."

"And? Why are we talking?"

"Roy's dead," she said quietly, leaning across the table. "He uncovered an assassination plot and got murdered for it."

"Mauloch's toenails, he stepped in a viper's nest this time, didn't he? One of the snakes is upstairs, talking about somebody getting killed for meddling, but I thought he was just blustering. His name's Laveque. Maybe you can get him to talk. Rattle his cage, but don't kill him. We might need him later."

"Will do."

"And don't mention me! I'm not an agent of the crown; I'm just an orc having a drink."

"Understood." As she ascended the stairs, Amelia had to wonder: did this make _her_ an agent of the crown? If so, she wondered if she'd get paid. She was a mercenary after all, but she'd never taken a job for a royal before.

It was quiet upstairs, too quiet. She drew her swords on the landing midway up to the second floor.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she came face-to-face with a terrified, yellow-haired Breton. "Oh, no!" he cried. "I've been discovered. Don't let her get me!"

Again, an assassin stepped from the shadows. Amelia was ready for this one, and she met her head-on. She parried the ever-present dagger and pierced the killer's heart with one thrust. "I'm getting really tired of this!" she grumbled angrily. She glared at the man. "Laveque, I assume?"

He squealed like a little girl and ran up the stairs to the third floor, and Amelia pursued him. There was really nowhere to run up there, and she cornered him easily. "Surely you don't believe I had anything to do with that, do you?" he stammered as he cowered before her.

"Are you joking? You said, 'Don't let her get me,' and I was attacked! But I'll let you live if you give me some information."

He stood up and straightened his tunic. "Agreed. Martine Lerineaux hired me."

"That was a little too easy," she murmured dubiously.

He nodded at her swords. "I'm no fighter. More like a coward. I know when to give in."

"Fine. What did Lerineaux hire you for?"

"I'm a mason. Lerineaux wanted me to make him a map of Daggerfall's tunnels."

"What tunnels?"

"The secret ones that lead to the castle. Most cities have tunnel systems under them in addition to the sewers. Bolt holes and such."

"Good to know."

"But I don't know what he's planning, I swear."

"Well, what in Oblivion do you think he's planning, you idiot? Somebody doesn't ask for a map of secret tunnels so he can enjoy the local color. You stay here, you understand? Don't even try to leave the inn, or I'll sic the orc on you and she will eat you for lunch."

She left Leveque and went back to Grenna.

"I thought I heard some noise upstairs. Did you kill him?"

"The bitch who tried to kill me is dead, but I left Leveque alive. I did tell him you might not be so kind if he tried to leave the inn. He said he gave Martine Lerineaux information about secret tunnels leading to the castle."

"Martine Lerineaux? He lives right next door. Go search his house and see if you turn up any evidence. He's a merchant; he should be at his shop right now."

"I'm off, then."

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on Leveque, so take anything you find to Captain Aresin."

Amelia went behind Lerineaux's house, picked the lock on the back door, and slipped inside. The manor was lushly furnished and meticulously clean, but it was cold. Not just the temperature—it was the residence of someone who cared only about how the house looked, not about making it a home. And standing before the unused fireplace was another man in the same armor as her attackers. He didn't hear her come in, though, and she was able to sneak up behind him and cut his throat. She wasn't so lucky with the one at the top of the stairs, whom she had a hairy fight with. Finally sending him dead to the floor below, she made her way to a sitting area, where she found Martine Lerineaux himself.

"Kill the intruder!" he cried, lunging for her.

Lerineaux was less experienced than his thugs, and he died without much of a fight. When he fell, Amelia turned quickly, ready for the next assailant, but there was none. With a sigh of relief, she began to look around the house.

In an office, she found a letter to Lerineaux from someone named Verrik. Apparently, a group called the Bloodthorns, led by someone named Angof, intended to assassinate King Casimir. They were smuggling the killer in on a ship and were set to strike at nightfall. She left Lerineaux's house and went to Captain Aresin.

"You look a bit worse for wear," he noted when she met him atop the wall. Only then did she realize she was covered with blood. She must have terrified the townspeople she had passed.

"This city is crawling with Bloodthorns, and they're all trying to kill me. None of this blood is mine; I'm afraid I'm building up a pile of dead assassins. Oh, and Martine Larineaux. He was working with them to map out the tunnels under the city."

"Bloodthorns? Are you sure?" She handed him Verrik's letter, and he scowled at her. "Most of the royal family is secure, but his lordship is brave and stubborn. He refuses to leave the throne room. All right, keep this quiet or we'll never get to the assassins in time. Get to the docks and see if you can find them. Do you need backup?"

"Probably better if I don't have it. A complement of soldiers will alert them."

"I don't need to tell you to be careful, Amelia. These Bloodthorns, they're ruthless and they're pure evil."

"Understood."

"I'm not sure you do. I'm talking about dark magic. _Very_ dark."

"That may be so, but all I've seen so far is daggers, and I know how to deal with those."

"Of that, I have no doubt. I'll get to the castle; you get to the docks."

* * *

Amelia found it hard to believe that there could be that many crates in the world, much less on Daggerfall's docks. There were hundreds, and most were big enough to hold a fully grown adult. She just hoped she didn't have to search them all. There just wasn't time. She would start with the two ships that were docked in port, but if she didn't find the assassins there, she couldn't just leave the docks unsearched. She searched the _Lydia_ first. No one was out in the open, but two crates held people, one a Khajiit stowaway who wailed that he had just wanted a ride, and the other a Bloodthorn assassin.

"You're too late," the killer boasted. "Verrik is already on his way to Daggerfall Castle."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"Don't you know? I'm here to kill _you_."

"Not going to happen." The Bloodthorn lunged for her, and she stepped aside and brought her sword up, catching him in the throat and thanking the gods for good combat training. She had no love for the one who had taught her to fight, but at times like this she couldn't help but be appreciative, if for nothing but the training. She just wondered how many more she was going to have to fight off before she could go home and soak in a hot bath. Having to haul and heat the water would even be worth it.

Amelia ran as fast as she could through the streets of Daggerfall, but her feet felt as though they were slogging through mud. She finally dashed past the guards and through the ornate double doors. She entered the throne room in time to hear Captain Aresin, who was standing amid a crowd of castle guards, pleading with the king to leave.

"My lord, you must go now."

"I will not!" the king replied imperiously. "The dragon does not flee its lair."

"With all due respect, you're no dragon. Wait, what was that?"

Amelia hadn't even heard the door open behind her, but suddenly a handful of Bloodthorns rushed in, all brandishing daggers.

"Get the king out of here!" Aresin shouted at the guards.

Two guards practically carried King Casimir out of the throne room and up the stairs while the remaining three, Aresin, and Amelia all drew their swords. Though she was starting to develop a splitting headache, she fought on, slashing at the nearest assassin furiously, then lunging for another after he was dead. Aresin and the guards fought bravely as well, although one of them fell before the rest of them finished off the intruders.

"Amelia!" called Aresin as he scuffled with the last one. "Upstairs!"

She scrambled to the mezzanine above, to find the two guards dead and another Bloodthorn menacing the king. This one was different, wearing heavy armor instead of dark leathers, and he wielded a sword instead of twin daggers. Verrik, it had to be. Amelia struck at him from behind and he whirled on her, sweeping her sword out of the way with his own and coming in for a quick thrust to her midsection. "No one will stand in Angof's way!" he snarled.

"I'm more worried about you at the moment," she countered with a grunt as the blow caught her enough to cut a good gash through her leather armor and into her skin. A healing potion wouldn't close this one; it would need stitches. Still, where he only had one sword, she had two, and she was able to parry the next thrust and get one of her own in before Verrik could reset.

She didn't count on magic, though, even after Aresin's warning, and the assassin spun around and flung a lightning bolt at her. Her right arm sizzled and scorched, and she cried out in pain and dropped her sword. As he followed through on his spin, he left his side vulnerable, and she managed to bury her other blade deep into his flesh. Aresin made it to the mezzanine just in time to see her twist the sword and jerk upward, sending Verrik to the floor with a spray of blood.

"Good riddance," said the king, walking over and peering down at the body. "Captain, this isn't easy for me to say, but I want to apologize for ignoring your warnings."

"It was nothing, my king. Forgive my impertinence."

"Not at all. You're right: I'm no dragon. And I believe I owe a debt of gratitude to our friend here."

"This is Amelia."

"Amelia, you have a place in my guard, if you want it."

"Thank you, my king," she replied, "but I'm more of a . . . freelancer."

"In that case, I'll be sure to call on you when we need someone of your talents. And you'll be paid well for your work today." He nodded to the two of them and headed back downstairs.

The captain smiled at her. "Good work today."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir,' Amelia. It doesn't sound right, coming from you."

"Then what?"

"My name is Dale." He nodded at the gash in her side and the burn on her arm. "You're injured again."

She nodded. "It's been a long day."

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2014 Zenimax Online


	2. LOS 2 - Werewolf

Lady of Storms Two

Werewolf

"_Trust me and I will guide you, my child."_

"I trust you."

"What was that?" Dale mumbled, throwing an arm over her.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

He snuggled closer and kissed her neck. "I'm awake now."

"You sleep too lightly."

"Have you always talked in your sleep?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He turned her over on her back, bent down and placed his mouth on hers, moaning softly as he drank her in. When they finally broke the kiss, he said, "I need to get up anyway. While I would love to stay here in bed with you all day, I have to train and get to my post. Come train with me."

She shook her head. "Not this morning. I smell coffee, so I think Kireina's finally home. I'm going to catch up with her." She got up and threw on a tunic and a pair of trousers while Dale went to the wash basin and began to shave. "I'll be out here," she said as she left the bedroom.

Kireina was sitting in front of the fire with a huge mug in her hands. The Nord was blonde and pretty, nearly a foot taller than Amelia, with the solid musculature of a practiced warrior. The child of two members of the Companions guild, she had grown up with a sword in her hand. While Amelia liked to fight, she was just as happy with missions of intrigue or mysteries to solve, but Kireina was all about the battle. That being said, Amelia had rarely seen her angry. She fought with a restoration staff and was just as talented a healer as she was a fighter. Perhaps the combination of fighting and healing helped to keep her balanced—or maybe other factors contributed as well—because she was the most pleasant-spirited person Amelia knew.

Amelia went to the fireplace, where a metal pitcher warmed fresh coffee made with rich kaveh beans she had purchased in Wayrest. They didn't have a lot of money to throw around, but they always splurged on their kaveh beans. She grabbed a mug, and using a rag so as not to burn her hand on the pitcher, she poured herself some of the hot brew and sat down next to the Nord. "You were gone for months," she complained. "You don't write, you don't send flowers; I didn't even know where you were."

"I was in Hammerfell," Kireina said with a Nordic accent, "escorting a dignitary to Sentinel. Then I spent a little time interacting with the local color, did a few missions for the captain of the guard."

"Well, next time you're going so far, leave me a note, okay? How was it in Hammerfell?"

"It was hot, and there was nothing to hunt except assassin beetles, snakes, and necromancers. What about you?"

Dale emerged from the bedroom, freshly cleaned and shaven and looking very handsome, and he came to Amelia's side, where he took the coffee from her hand and took a sip.

"You want some?" she asked him. "There's plenty."

"Aye, thanks." He grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee. "Can I take your cup?"

"Of course. Just bring it back. You know how I am about that stuff. Dale Aresin, this is Kireina Skaarsgard."

"Well met, Kireina. I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same, Captain, but I have a feeling I'm going to."

Dale chuckled, then bent to kiss Amelia goodbye. "I'll see you at the Lion later?"

"If not before. Have a good day."

As soon as he was gone, Kireina said, "All right, spill it. What are you doing with the captain of the guard?"

"Quite a bit, actually," she said with a wink. "But I have so much more to tell you."

"What's going on?"

Amelia told her the story of how she was taken from her bedroll and placed on an altar for sacrifice, and about how she was miraculously saved.

"You're serious," Kireina assumed finally.

"Oh, aye. Dale said they were probably Bloodthorns, a cult that worships Molag Bal."

"Well, that can't be a coincidence."

"What?"

"I heard rumors while I was traveling about a plot to drag Nirn into Coldharbour, but I thought they were just that—rumors. I was told about Molag Bal cults that were summoning monstrous anchors—portals to Coldharbour—along with all sorts of Daedra. I never saw one, mind you, but the stories I heard were horrendous. But you _weren't_ sacrificed. You said someone saved you?"

Amelia shrugged. "I honestly don't know what happened. One minute I'm lying on an altar, looking up at this elf who is about to stab me with a dagger, and the next I'm waking up in my own bed and Jakarn is standing at the bedroom door. He said I'd been unconscious for a couple of days and that when they pulled me out of the ocean, I was glowing."

"Glowing!"

"He had to be making it up. But I think part of me actually believes it. I've been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Well, I _guess_ they're dreams. When I'm asleep, someone will tell me to trust them—trust _her_—and that she will guide me."

"And do you?"

"I might trust her more if I knew who she was. Or maybe she's just a figment of my imagination."

Kireina grimaced at her. "What is it with you? You can't just get into normal, everyday trouble. You have to go and get the attention of a Daedric Prince or something. Wasn't there something a year or so ago with Nocturnal?"

"Oi, when I told her I wasn't willing to pledge my soul to her, she left me completely alone."

"Are you sure? Maybe this is her, still watching out for you."

Amelia shook her head. "Nocturnal is more practical. She wouldn't be so elusive. And this is not a Daedric Prince."

"But how do you know? You were very lucky, suddenly disappearing from that altar."

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Sure. I want to hear all about how you ended up in bed with Captain Aresin."

"We met about a month ago when I stumbled upon a plot to assassinate King Casimir. It's not serious, but it's steady. He's perfect: he's a sweetheart, he's gorgeous, and he'll train with me."

Kireina chuckled. "But it's not serious."

"Nah. He's married to his job, and I travel too much to think about settling down. But I like him."

"Serious or not, I'm happy for you. In this town, I'm not surprised about an assassination attempt. There is so much going on behind the scenes."

"Do you know Roy? The one with the dog, Giblets. He was murdered, and I uncovered this scheme when I was investigating that. A group called the Bloodthorn Cult was behind it all."

"You mentioned them before."

"Aye, the assassination attempt was why Dale started wondering whether they were behind my abduction. We haven't seen them since then, but something like that sticks with you." She smiled sadly. "Poor Dale. He's a practical man, and the thought that an evil cult had tried to sacrifice me to Molag Bal didn't set well with him."

"I'm afraid to ask if anything else has happened while I was gone."

"Isn't that enough?"

"More than enough."

Amelia finished her coffee and said, "I think I'll go train with him after all. Wanna come?"

Kirena shook her head. "I had a busy night and need some rest. I haven't been to bed yet."

"Are you sticking around for a while?"

"Aye, I don't have anything else right now. I hunted last night, so I'm content to stay home for now. Let's go to the Rosy Lion for a pint later."

Amelia kissed her friend on the forehead and went to dress.

She arrived at the castle training yard an hour later, but Dale wasn't around. One of the guards directed her to his post on the castle wall, where she found him in a heated discussion with a guard. When he saw her, he called her over.

"Hey. You want a job?"

"Sure, what do you have?"

"We're undermanned at the moment, and I need help with something just outside of town. It's a two-person job, so feel free to ask your friend if she wants to tag along."

It was spring in Glenumbra, and with the warming weather came what Dale liked to call "bandit season." The Red Rook bandits had grown bolder of late and had taken a local resident and his family hostage in their own home. Dale sent Amelia and Kirena to take care of the problem.

The women met with Captain Farlivere, who was set up half a mile outside the grounds of Noellaume Manor, a few miles northeast of Daggerfall.

"The biggest problem we have at the moment is the wolves," the captain told them. "The Red Rooks use trained wolves to guard their camp. It increases their confidence, I guess, but it also makes them careless."

She handed Amelia a sack full of foliage. "This is wolf's woe. I need you to infiltrate the camp and get into the manor, then give this to Lord Arcady Noellaume and his family. The plant will mask their scents, and they should be able to walk past the wolves and get out of the area. Bring them to me if you can. Once you've taken care of the wolves and released the hostages, we can charge in and take out the bandits."

"Anything else we need to know?" Kireina asked.

"Always is." She picked up a knapsack from nearby and handed it to the Nord. "They've probably locked the house, so you'll have to find the key, which is probably on the chief or in his tent. Captain Aresin says you're good at subterfuge, Amelia. Inside that sack are two Red Rook uniforms, which you can use to sneak past the bandits."

"Can't we just fight our way through?" Kireina wondered.

Farlivere shook her head. "There are too many for two of you."

Kireina raised one eyebrow, but Farlivere ignored it.

"Look, just sneak through, get the key, and rescue the hostages. Kill anyone who tries to stop you, but try not to cause too much of a ruckus."

"No, these are great," said Amelia, taking the knapsack from Kireina and pulling out the disguises. "Don't worry, Kireina. I'm sure there will be some Red Rooks for you to kill."

"I can always hope," she replied with a chuckle.

Amelia and Kireina went behind a shrub and changed into the disguises, then left their armor with the captain and set out toward the camp, Kireina grumbling about the lack of protection the disguises provided. They held some protective magic, but they probably wouldn't stand up to a sword to the belly. They walked through like they owned the place, and though a few of the bandits gave them suspicious glances, no one stopped them. They finally had to fight when they reached the chief's tent. A vicious-looking orc stood just outside the doorway, arms folded, talking to a burly Nord. There was no way past them.

"Yes!" Kireina whispered triumphantly.

They drew their weapons and snuck up on the bandits as best they could, but Kireina wasn't stealthy—and didn't care to be—and they were easily discovered. Amelia took the orc, casting a Petrify spell on him first. The spell immobilized him momentarily, and she was able to get in a couple of good strikes with her twin swords before he came out of it and swung his heavy warhammer at her. She narrowly dodged a devastating blow to the head, darting in to make two deep slashes across his midsection. With an "oof" and a spray of blood, he collapsed to his knees, but he still swung the hammer at her. With a wave of her hand and a whispered incantation, she cast a Lava Whip at him, essentially burning off the top of his head. Finally, he fell the ground and died. Amelia turned just in time to see Kireina decapitate the Nord.

Her friend growled with vigor as the head flew and blood gushed all over her. "That's what I needed!" she exclaimed.

"I'm happy for you, but keep your voice down. The captain was right: there are too many Red Rooks to take down ourselves, so just hush."

"Oi, you're ruining all my fun," Kireina teased.

Amelia and Kireina checked the bandits' pockets for a key, but there was none. When they searched the tent, however, Amelia found it in a lockbox on a table. "Let's get inside," she said.

They crossed the yard, stopping to fight one of the troop's trained wolves, an altercation that left Kireina panting with a wild look in her eyes.

"Keep it together, Reina," Amelia warned her.

"I'm all right. I guess the wolf's woe wasn't strong enough to mask _my_ scent, huh?"

"I'm surprised it attacked; it was probably terrified of you. Gods, _I'm_ terrified of you."

They entered the house and killed the bandit that was on guard, then went downstairs to find the Noellaume family tied up in the basement. They untied the hostages, a few of whom bad been pretty badly beaten, and Kireina applied her healing magic. Amelia marveled at the look of serenity that came over the face of the woman who was still covered in the blood of her last opponent. They distributed the wolf's woe, then escorted them out the back way, past the wolves and traps, and to the road where Captain Farlivere and the other guards waited.

"Anything you can tell us about the bandits?" the captain asked Lord Noellaume.

"Yes, yes. I'm glad to help! I would have fought the fiends myself, but they surprised us."

"It was better letting us do the dirty work, my lord."

"Some of them came in by boat, but I think they're mainly operating out of Ilessan Tower. Most of them seemed to be here on the grounds, but I overheard a couple of them talking about it. They mentioned that a few stayed back at the tower to stand guard."

Farlivere turned to Amelia and Kireina. "We'll charge in here and retake the grounds. You two go to Ilessan Tower and clear it out. Report back to me when you're done."

Maintaining the disguises but taking their armor with them, the women made their way to the tower, which was just outside of Daggerfall. The above-ground portion of the tower, which was all that was left standing of an old fort, was in ruins. However, a trap door led to a lower level that was still intact. It was a good hideout for bandits, and though Amelia had never been there, she knew the city guards had to clear the tower most every spring.

They stashed their armor in a nook at the rear of the tower, and Kireina carefully opened the trap door. Noellaume had been right; there were only a few Red Rooks present, and thanks to the disguises, most of them let the women walk right up before realizing they weren't supposed to be there. They cleared out the tower in about an hour, then checked for loot and anything of interest. Amelia found just such an item on a crate near a cookfire. It was a letter with some startling news.

_B-  
Loot as much as you can from Ilessan Tower. We need resources to take to the Bloodthorns. We will be in control of Noellaume Manor by the time you're done. Flank the Daggerfall guards when you get there.  
-T_

"Sweet Mara, the Red Rooks are working with the Bloodthorns!" Amelia gasped.

"Better take that to the captain."

"You're right. Let's get out of here."

They left the tower and changed back into their own armor, then reported to Captain Farlivere. When she released them, they headed back to town.

They passed a beggar Amelia often gave money to on the way in. She didn't know his name, but she always spoke, even when she didn't have any coin to give him. She said hello and started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

"Please," he said, "I need your help."

"I'm sorry, friend. I don't have anything on me at the moment."

"No, no, it's not the coin; I need something else. You're the one who stopped the assassination plot, right?"

She nodded. "What can I help you with?"

"There are murders. Somebody—some_thing_—is killing Daggerfall's poor."

Kireina cocked her head to the side like a curious puppy. "Go on," she prodded.

"The guards won't help. They figure it's just one more bum off the streets."

That made Amelia angry. It wasn't just Dale; she considered many of the town guards her friends. If they were neglecting the poor for any reason, she was going to be very put out. "Who did you talk to?" she asked the beggar with an edge to her voice.

"Lieutenant DuBois. He didn't say those exact words, you understand. He just implied that he had more important things to worry about. He said it was probably exposure or starvation that killed them, but Red, these people were torn to pieces. When I told him that, he said it was probably just an animal attack."

"How many?"

"Three, so far."

"We'll look into it," she promised.

"You might start with the alleyways. That's where all the murders took place."

"I want to talk to Lieutenant DuBois first, and then we'll check the alleys."

They said goodbye to the beggar and went to the town square, where Michel DuBois normally stood watch. He was good looking, mid-thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes. He usually had a smug expression on his face, but after getting to know him, Amelia knew he was actually a nice guy. He just _looked_ like an ass.

"Well met, Red," he said when they approached. He noticed Amelia's grim expression and said, "What's wrong?"

"I just heard some local beggars have been murdered."

DuBois sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "They haven't been murdered, Red. That guy isn't right in the head, and he's just making up stories."

"So three of them _weren't _torn to pieces? Did you even investigate?"

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Michel, just because he's homeless doesn't mean he's crazy. You should have checked up on this."

With a glare, he said, "Are you telling me my job? I report to your boyfriend, not to you."

"Then I'll go to him."

She walked away before he could respond and went to Dale, who was standing at his post as usual.

He gave an exasperated sigh he saw her. "You're covered in blood again, Amelia." He glanced over at Kireina. "Every time I see her, she's covered in blood."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"Are the two of you all right?"

"Most of it isn't mine," Amelia assured him. "I'm all right, and Kireina wasn't injured at all. We rescued the Noellaume family and helped clear out the bandits, and we found this in Ilessan Tower." She handed him the note, and he groaned.

"Bloodthorns. Damn it! Thanks for bringing this to me. We'll get right on it."

Amelia crossed her arms and stared at him.

"What is it? Something else?"

"Do you know about the murders?"

"Which ones?"

"'Which ones'?"

"It's a big city, Amelia."

"I'm talking about the poor. Three homeless people were ripped apart."

"Right, they were animal attacks."

"How can you be sure? DuBois said you didn't even look into it."

"Because they were animal attacks. I thought it was pretty clear. The countryside is crawling with wolves. One of them probably snuck in at night."

"Into a city full of people?" Kireina countered. "That's highly unlikely. Wolves are shy. Feral or not, they're going to avoid large concentrations of people."

Amelia shook her head. "Dale, you can't just let this go."

"Amelia, you know we're stretched thin. I can't afford to sacrifice the manpower to check into something involving a bunch of vagrants who were obviously attacked by wolves. Shy or not!"

Amelia's blood boiled, and she recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "'A bunch of vagrants'? I can't believe you actually said that! You know I've lived on the streets. Am I a vagrant?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Gods damnit, Dale, that's what the guard is for!"

He rolled his eyes. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

She merely glared at him.

"Fine, fine. Check into it, but I think you're going to come to the same conclusion as we did. If you actually find anything, I'll see to it that you're compensated."

"Don't worry about it. We'll do this one at no charge."

"Why are you so upset?"

"They might be homeless, but that doesn't mean they're worthless. If you ever talked to them, you'd know that. They're down on their luck, but they deserve the same respect as your fine, upstanding citizens, and you and Michel are both telling me they're not worth your time. Which means if I was living on the streets, _I_ wouldn't be worth it."

"Amelia, you don't understand. You don't stand up here and watch the city every day, and you don't see what I do."

"No, I most definitely do not, and maybe that's a good thing. Look, I have to go. I want to find out what's going on here as soon as I can."

"Will I at least see you later so we can talk about this?" he asked plaintively.

"I don't know. You're not the person I thought you were, Dale. I need time to think. I'll at least let you know what we turn up, though." She turned her back and walked away.

"Amelia!"

But she didn't turn around. She just kept going.

Kireina followed behind her, and when she caught up, she said, "Well, that went well."

"'A bunch of vagrants!'"

"I don't think he meant anything by it."

"That's kind of the point, isn't it? He didn't think about what he was saying because he has no consideration for them. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's take a look at the alleys, okay?"

"Right with you."

They started with the alleys on the south side of town and found a crime scene almost immediately. Someone had taken the body away, but blood was spattered all over the ground and the back wall of a house. Kireina sniffed around while Amelia took a closer look, and then they compared notes.

"I found some hair and a few pieces of clothing next to the wall," said Amelia. "Without a body to examine it's hard to say, but I think our friend may have been right about them being ripped apart."

"There are two scents," Kireina noted, "one of the victim and one that's . . . disturbing. And it's not a wolf. I just hope I'm wrong about what it is."

"What do you think it is?"

A man and a woman were seated on the ground nearby, surrounded by some bags and a few odds and ends, and before Kireina could answer Amelia, the man called them over.

"Take care," he warned. "A vicious monster stalks these alleyways."

"Why are you back here, then?" Amelia asked.

"This is where we live," he replied defensively.

"It's been attacking mostly at night," the woman told them.

"What kind of monster?" asked Kireina apprehensively.

"We haven't seen it. None have seen it and lived."

They went on and searched some of Daggerfall's other alleys, and they found another bloody scene on the west side. There was more shredded clothing, and Amelia found several small bones, probably from a hand or foot.

Just around the corner from the scene, a man called them over. "You're investigating, aye? Word travels fast."

"Aye, we are," said Amelia. "Anything you can tell us?"

"It's a werewolf."

"Damn it!" Kireina exclaimed. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Terrible things are going on here, right under the city guard's noses, and they do nothing. Necromancers are prowling the streets, those terrible green vines are cropping up all over, and now a werewolf stalks the poor."

"What do the vines have to do with it?" asked Amelia.

"The vines belong to the Bloodthorn Cult, didn't you know? Wherever the vines appear, the Bloodthorns aren't far away."

"They're still in the city? How do you know that?"

He gave her a sly smile. "Nobody pays attention to the homeless. We're invisible. That means we can listen. We know more about what goes on in this city than anyone because nobody pays us any mind."

"But what makes you think it's a werewolf?" Kireina demanded.

"Mariah the Invisible saw it. Seven feet tall, covered in fur, long, sharp claws and fangs. It was last seen over by the river; that was a couple of days ago."

"A werewolf. In my city!"

"_Your_ city?" the man echoed. "What do you mean?"

"Just that we feel responsible for the welfare of the residents here," Amelia said quickly. "Rest assured, friend, we'll take care of it."

They left the man on the corner and headed toward the river, Kireina seething. This was one of the few times Amelia had ever seen her angry, and she was trembling and red-faced. "A fucking werewolf in Daggerfall. Who does he think he is?"

"He's a smart one too. He's only targeting the homeless, whom few people will miss, if any. I wonder if he's associated with the Bloodthorns or if it's just coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence. Look, you can tag along, Red, but if we find this werewolf, he's mine. Daggerfall is only big enough for one of us."

"Understood. Do you think he knew you lived here?"

"My scent is all over town; I even marked the outer walls and city gates. He knew."

They searched the riverbank, and although they found some tracks that Kireina said certainly belonged to a werewolf, they didn't find the creature himself. Craning her neck and sniffing, Kireina began tracking the beast. She lost his scent when it went into the water, but she found it again on the other side of the river. It led under the bridge and to a sewer grate with several bars ripped off.

"How did the guards not see that?" Kireina grumbled.

"It's out of the way. He broke the grate just next to the bridge where nobody ever goes, and he was able to slip in and out as he pleased."

"Well, no more." She squeezed through the opening and into the tunnel, which opened onto a stream a few feet outside the wall, and Kireina continued to follow the scent. She didn't find the creature, but she found the man, sitting by a cookfire at a camp hidden in the woods about a mile out of town.

The werewolf recognized Kireina by her scent, and with a snarl, he began to shift to his beast form, as did Kireina. With the ripping of clothing, the crunch of bone and the squish of flesh, the pretty Nord changed into a monstrous beast. Amelia had seen her friend shift twice before, and it always gave her chills. Kireina wasn't small by any means, but the change in size was astonishing, and she radiated sheer rage. The presence of the slavering monster—even though it was her best friend—terrified her. After all, werewolves couldn't always control their impulses, and she couldn't be sure she wasn't in any danger.

Resting her hands on her swords, she took several steps back and watched in horror as Kireina charged the other werewolf, roaring with fury and then laughing maniacally as she tore him to pieces. He shifted back to human form as he perished, and Amelia tried not to watch as Kireina ripped into his chest, yanked out his heart, and ate it. Finally, panting and drenched in blood, her friend looked over at her. "I'll be back," she growled, and she loped off toward the river.

Amelia figured Kireina was cleaning up, so she sat down with her back to a nearby tree and waited, staring at the werewolf's tattered body. She was still spattered with blood, herself; she could probably do with a bath too. But she would wait till she got home rather than bathe in the river. Deciding she should inspect the camp, she got up and went over, stepping around the blood and gore as best she could. The search was successful, and she recovered a few pieces of jewelry and a letter.

_L-  
Your infiltration into Daggerfall has been noticed, and you are instructed to take more care with your hunt. You are there to gather information, not slaughter the locals. If you cannot maintain better control, we will remove you and send someone else in.  
Hail Faolchu and Angof  
-T_

Angof. So it _was_ the Bloodthorns, and this werewolf was a spy. He just couldn't control his impulse to kill.

It occurred to Amelia that the Bloodthorns were arrogant, writing letters to each other and keeping them out in the open as if they couldn't imagine anyone possibly opposing them. They weren't afraid, and they weren't subtle. Well, that was fine. It would just make her job easier.

After a few minutes, Kireina came loping back, clean and wet. When she reached the camp, she shifted back to her human form and stood before Amelia, stark naked, with a smile on her face.

"Good thing we kept those Red Rook uniforms," she quipped. "Can't very well head back to town with no clothes on."

"You smell like a wet dog." Eying her up and down, she added, "But you look pretty good, though."

"Sweet talker. I probably should have shifted back _before_ I jumped in the river."

"Are you okay?"

"Of course. Got to blow off steam, got to feed; I'm one happy werewolf. Of course, I need new armor—again—but I'm used to that."

"Well, it scared the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't hurt you; surely you know that."

"What if you had lost control?"

Kireina shook her head as she rummaged through the knapsack for a Red Rook uniform. "A werewolf who can't control her impulses isn't a very good werewolf."

"Apparently _this_ guy couldn't." She read the note to her friend.

"Uh-huh, and it got him killed. Bad werewolf. No biscuit." She looked at Amelia pensively. "I wonder who Angof and Faolchu are."

"Angof is associated with the Bloodthorns, but I don't know of anyone named Faolchu."

"Ancient lore speaks of a sort of werewolf king named Faolchu from the time of the Ayleids, but if he really existed at all, he's long dead."

"We'll have to keep our eyes and ears open. Let's get back to town, tell Dale what we found, and remind him that he needs to take the poor more seriously."

"Are you going to make up with him?"

"I don't know," she confessed.

The sun had set by the time they walked through the gates of Daggerfall, and Amelia sighed with satisfaction. At least for now, the homeless didn't have to fear the night, and she was glad about that. But the Bloodthorns wouldn't let it stay that way for long. The werewolves, the vines, the assassination attempt—and she couldn't forget what the beggar had said about necromancers. And they all worshiped Molag Bal. With that thought, the satisfaction melted away and anxiety set in. Worrying was a waste of energy, though, so she strengthened her resolve to do whatever it took to stop the Bloodthorn Cult and the Daedric Prince.

* * *

Characters and settings c.2014 Zenimax Online Studios

13


	3. LOS 3 - The Beldama Wyrd

Lady of Storms Three

The Beldama Wyrd

Dale was understandably concerned about a werewolf in Daggerfall, and he and Michel Dubois promised to be more vigilant. They were also apologetic over their treatment of the homeless, but Amelia didn't really expect them to change. Dale was right: they had seen a lot in their time with the guard, and that could make a person jaded.

Over the next few weeks, Amelia saw less and less of her lover. They were both busy with bandits and Bloodthorns, and she never really forgave him for his insensitivity toward the homeless, even if she understood his views. Eventually, they rarely saw each other at all, except when discussing work. She supposed it was for the best. She cared for him, but there was too much going on in her life to let her feelings develop into love. Fortunately there was little tension between them; it wasn't a bad breakup, and besides, they were professionals. Personal feelings wouldn't prevent them from being civil while working together. They still woke up in bed together on the odd occasion, usually when they had been drinking, but even that grew less often. The _Spearhead_ was in port, and these days she was more likely to wake up in bed with Jakarn, often with both him and Kireina—sometimes just with Kireina.

And then there was the Dark Anchor. It was on the southeastern shore of Glenumbra, and they were out there at least once a week trying to keep the thing closed. Worm Cultists had erected the dolmen overnight and had warded it with powerful magic, and no matter how hard the guards tried to get rid of it, they couldn't sunder the stone structure. Hammers wouldn't crush it, and burying it was futile because a strong wind would come and blow all the sand or dirt away. Magic had no effect on the structure whatsoever. They placed guards to keep Worm Cultists from appearing and opening the anchor, but one mishap or another would leave the dolmen unguarded and the Dark Anchor would drop.

Whenever an anchor dropped, the whole southern peninsula knew it. It would open with the thunder of a great trumpet, and Daedra would explode through a massive portal that loomed a hundred feet in the sky, tethered to the world by chains so huge, even one link was bigger than Amelia. The battles were harrowing, and sometimes she would have nightmares about the terrifying anchors opening up on top of her and raining Daedra on her head. But she kept on fighting. What else could she do?

She did have new toys to play with. Working for King Casimir was lucrative, and she had invested in two new swords and had Camille Ashton, Daggerfall's resident enchanter, put flame and frost enchantments on them. Camille had also worked miracles with the Bosmer armor Amelia had awakened in. It was revealing, but the enchantments were so powerful that when she was in a fight it was as though no skin was exposed. She felt like a different woman, roving the countryside with superior weapons and better protection from the creatures Molag Bal kept throwing at her.

She was heading home after just such a battle when she passed a Wyress on the road. She was pretty, dark haired and gray eyed, wearing an animal-skin dress with bone embellishments. The witches of the Beldama Wyrd had been in the area trying to rid the local mill of forest creatures that had inexplicably turned hostile. Amelia had offered to help, but they had assured her that everything was well in hand, so she had left them to it. But today, the Wyress pulled her aside.

"You mentioned a willingness to help," she said. "Does that offer still stand?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"I'm Wyress Ileana."

"You can call me Red."

"Red, as you know, things are not well in our woods, but lately they have grown even worse. The Guardians have gone silent, and this corruption spreads."

"Who are the Guardians?"

"Elemental spirits, one each for air, earth, and water. They are the Ehlnofey, and they have been a part of the land since the dawn of Tamriel. They protect the land and _used to_ guide us, but suddenly, nothing."

"Why would they stop communicating like that?"

"We have no idea. We don't know if we've angered them or if someone has done something to hurt them . . . there is a ritual to contact them, but it's too dangerous for my sisters and me to perform."

"Is it something I can do?"

"I don't know; you're not one of us, but we simply can't fight the creatures, so we have to try _something_."

"Creatures. Great."

"If this is too much—"

"No, no, not at all. I'm glad to help. It just seems like there are always creatures."

"Indeed." She pointed through the trees. "See the lurchers out there? The monstrosities that look as though they're made from rotting wood."

They were hard to miss. The magical creatures were dark green with patches of dead gray, bipedal, about seven feet tall with no heads to speak of; they just sort of ended at the shoulders. They were hollow, and a large, glowing circle rested in the center of their chests. "I see them."

"They're abominations of the Bloodthorns. They used to be spriggans, but the Bloodthorns have twisted and corrupted them. Gather some of their limbs—that's the dangerous part—then burn them at the altar atop the nearby ruin."

"Would you like for me to just kill the lurchers and so you can perform the ritual?"

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. The one who kills them must gather the limbs, and the one who gathers the limbs must burn them. If it works, a Guardian should appear, and hopefully we can find out what we've done, or what we need to do. Afterward, find me at the Vale of the Guardians, just north of here."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

She set out to fight the lurchers, which turned out to be among the easiest battles she'd had in weeks. They were indeed made of rotting wood, so they didn't stand up well to her flame-enchanted sword. She did take a couple of jarring blows from one or two of them, but she managed to get a fairly good stock of lurcher limbs to perform the ritual without too much trouble.

The ruins Ileana had mentioned were up a hill that was overgrown with the foul Bloodthorn vines, from which wafted a pungent yellow mist. She carried the branches up the hill but dropped them near the top to deal with a necromancer who stood guard. The fight was bloody, but the necromancer wasn't the problem; it was the zombie he raised that gave her trouble. She fought off the zombie as best she could, hacking at it and ducking out of the way when it vomited disgusting green goo at her, but it was hard to kill. The best thing would be to lop its head off, but with the way it moved, she couldn't get room for a good swing at its neck. It got in a few good scratches to her torso, reminding Amelia that her armor wasn't invulnerable. She finally managed to get around it and reach the necromancer, who was otherwise unarmed. He lobbed a couple of flame spells at her, but they were clearly not his strong suit and Amelia was able to dodge them and take his head off. When the necromancer fell, so did the zombie.

Farther up the hill, she found the altar, which was also overgrown with the vines, and put the limbs upon it; then with whispered incantation and a cone of flame, she ignited them. Out of the fire rose an ethereal figure shaped like a female humanoid, but it appeared to be made entirely of stone.

"Greetings, child. I am the Guardian of the Earth. We are the Ehlnofey, echoes of old voices, remnants of a time long ago. We nurture the land and guide the Wyrd. We have been waiting for someone to summon us, and such a gifted child is better than we expected."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Angof the Gravesinger has imprisoned us, and we are cut off from the Wyrd. You must set us free."

"How can I do that?"

"The first step is to cleanse the standing stones of Angof's dark influence."

"Where are these standing stones?"

"The Wyresses will know of what we speak. Protect the Wyrd while they destroy the corruption binding the stones. This will loosen Angof's grip. From there, a ritual involving your spirit will bring about our release."

"_My_ spirit?"

"You will not be harmed during the ritual, but you must be the catalyst. Wyress Ileana will know what must be done."

"I've been trying to learn more about Angof and the Bloodthorns," she told the stone spirit. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

"The Bloodthorns are merely Angof's puppets. He is a tremor in the land, a poison in the water. He is Gravesinger, Reachmage, necromancer, and corrupter."

"Is he a man? An elf? Something else?"

"He is man, but he is tainted by evil. You must stop him."

"I'll do whatever I can."

The Guardian faded from view, and Amelia went back down the hill. The vines were becoming more prominent in the woods, and they completely lined the road in some places. But when she reached the Vale of the Guardians, it seemed someone had placed a protective spell around the area. Flowers and healthy trees grew among lush, green grass, and the warm sun streamed through the canopy above. It was beautiful.

Wyress Ileana was waiting in a small garden inside the vale. "I heard a whisper throughout the forest. Was it the Guardians? Did they talk to you? Did they say what we've done?"

"You haven't done anything, Ileana. Angof has them imprisoned."

"Imprisoned! Our enemy is that powerful?"

"She said he was a gravesinger."

"A gravesinger? Oh, no."

"What is a gravesinger, exactly?"

"A gravesinger's power goes beyond that of a simple necromancer. We must free the Guardians! But how?"

"The Guardian said to send your Wyrd to cleanse the standing stones."

Ileana nodded. "Cleanse the stones of the choking vines, of course. I will send three of my sisters north to cleanse the stones, but they will need protection from the corrupted creatures that might attack them before they complete the spell."

"I'll protect them, but the Guardian said this was only the first step. She said my spirit would be involved in another ritual and that you would know what to do next."

"Did she say why it had to be you?"

Amelia shook her head in response.

"Perhaps they know something we don't, then. They can be mysterious. We'll need to sacrifice a spriggan—or better yet, a lurcher—to cleanse the ritual site first." She took an amulet from around her neck and handed it to Amelia, who didn't know what was inside the small pouch at the end of the leather string, but she could feel the power it radiated. It practically vibrated in her hands. "When the sisters are done, weaken a lurcher and use the amulet to take control of it. Just hold it toward the creature and utter the words, '_Solo kiro na-cientho_.' Then lead it up the hill to us. We'll do the rest."

"'_Solo kiro na-cientho_.' Got it."

Ileana called three of her sisters over and introduced Wyresses Ofelia, Madenn, and Shaelle. Together they made their way through the forest until they reached the first stone.

"See these vines?" said Ofelia. "Corruption runs through them and they choke the sacred stones. Soon they will tap into the stone's magic and defile it completely. I need you to protect me while I cleanse the stone."

"What about you two?" Amelia asked Madenn and Shaelle.

"Only one of us can cleanse a stone," said Shaelle, "and it tires us out so that we can't do any more. When Ofelia finishes here, she will go up the hill to join Ileana and we will go to the next stone, and so on."

"I understand. All right, you two hide behind a tree or something. Just stay out of the way. Ofelia, I'm ready."

"The protectors will be on us as soon as I begin the spell," Ofelia warned her. She raised her hands toward the stone and began chanting. Fire blazed forth from her hands, but before it could catch the vines, a Bloodthorn cultist leapt out from behind the stone and attacked.

Amelia engaged the cultist, taking him down with ease, but another one appeared seemingly out of nowhere and cast a spell that made her head swim. Before she could recover, her torso erupted in pain, and she came out of the haze to realize he had hit her with a fireball.

Maybe she should reconsider the armor after all.

"Damn you!" she cried as she raised her hand to cast her own spell. Dark talons burst from the ground and held the cultist in place while she cast another, one that provided some healing while the cultist stared at her in disbelief. She supposed it was disconcerting to watch. It rendered her all but invisible except for her beating heart, which glowed with red light. Unfortunately, after the talon spell she didn't have enough magicka to heal herself completely, but the visual effect provided a deadly distraction for the cultist, who was still staring at her even when the talons disappeared. She thrust her frost sword into his chest, and he keeled over, dead.

"The stone is cleansed," said Ofelia. "I'll meet you at the ritual site after I've rested for a minute."

"You're injured," said Madenn, walking up to Amelia, whose body was just reappearing around her. She reached into a pouch on her belt and produced a healing potion. "Here. Drink."

Amelia accepted the potion and sighed with relief as the last of the blisters on her torso faded away. In only a few moments, she was pain free. "Thanks," she said earnestly. "Now, let's go take care of the other two stones."

Madenn cleansed her stone and Amelia protected her without injury, but she ended up needing more healing when defending Shaelle. One of the cultists bashed her on the head with a hammer, and though she managed to finish him off, as soon as he was dead, she fainted. She awoke with her head in Shaelle's lap, and the Wyress was holding a healing potion to her lips.

"I fear you have a concussion," she said, "but this should help. As you already know, our healing potions are powerful." She held the potion for Amelia as she drank.

Amelia tried to get up, but Shaelle pulled her down. "Rest for a moment, give the potion time to take full effect. You'll be no good to us if you pass out again."

"You're right, sorry."

"No need to apologize. We are so grateful for your help. We could not have done this without you."

They sat together next to the stone for half an hour or so until Amelia was feeling better, and then Shaelle made her way to the ritual site while Amelia prepared to capture a lurcher. She found one nearby and sneaked up on it from behind, then weakened it with a few swings of her flame sword. When it was struggling to stand, she held forth the amulet. "_Solo kiro na-cientho!" _she shouted.

A green mist swirled out of the amulet and surrounded the lurcher. It turned to her as if it were looking at her. It gave a little bow, then stood to full height and trembled as if it were a dog shaking water out of its fur.

"You coming with me, then?" she asked. It didn't answer, of course, but it followed her when she started out. Every once in a while, it would stop and shiver, and her curiosity was practically overwhelming. Why did it do that? Ileana had said it was a corrupted spriggan. Maybe the shakes were the spriggan trying to reassert itself. She would probably never know.

They passed another lurcher on the way, and Amelia's lurcher attacked it. She didn't have to do anything as it ripped the other creature apart. When it was done, it turned to her and thrust out its chest as if to say, "See what I did?" almost as though it were looking for approval.

"Thanks," she said simply. "Let's go."

They arrived at the top of the hill to find a ring of stones and a handful of Wyresses standing among them. Amelia led the lurcher to the center of the circle, where it immediately started to tremble. It fell to the ground and a mist rose out of it. The lurcher disintegrated, and a spriggan took its place.

"By my blood, the corruption is washed away," the spriggan said weakly. Then she lay on the ground and perished.

"The sacrifice has made this holy place pure again," Ileana told Amelia. "The poor spriggan spirit is finally free. We can begin the ritual to set the Guardians free whenever you are ready."

"I'm ready," said Amelia.

"Beldama! Sisters! Focus your power on Amelia. It's time to break Angof's hold on the Guardians."

The Wyresses stood in a circle around Amelia and held their hands toward her. Golden light streamed from their fingers and engulfed her in warmth. There was a bit of a shock, but there was very little pain. Suddenly the light exploded all around her and dissipated, and the three Guardians hovered at the edge of the ring of standing stones.

Amelia already knew the Guardian of the Earth, whose stone countenance was more prominent in person. The others appeared female as well; the Guardian of the Water was made of ice, and the Guardian of the Air was little more than a specter.

"At last the chains of corruption fall away," said the Guardian of the Earth. "We are free of Angof's hold!"

The Guardian of the Air momentarily took on a more corporeal appearance, and she sneered, "And he will pay for this insult."

"Champion of the Guardians, we are in your debt," said the Guardian of the Water. "It is right that you should be the one to free us. You are mortal, yet you have been touched by the gods."

"Touched by the gods? What do you mean?"

"Angof has much to fear from you, as you have power he does not understand—power that you do not yet understand yourself. But his evil still flows through the land, and this must end quickly. There is more work for you."

"I'll do whatever is necessary."

"Go to the Wyrd Tree and speak to Wyress Gwen. She will instruct you on what needs to be done."

With that, the Guardians disappeared. Ileana walked over and handed Amelia a pouch of gold and a dagger. "It's not much, but you should be rewarded for what you did today. The dagger steals life and may help you in your quest. If not, it should bring a good price."

"Thank you, Ileana. I was glad to help, reward or no." She didn't say so, but it was better to get the reward.

"Come. Rest with us tonight and go to the Wyrd Tree in the morning. You've been injured today, and you must be tired."

Amelia chuckled. "I am. I just realized I'm exhausted."

* * *

There was a celebration in the Vale of the Guardians that night, and the sisters almost made Amelia feel like a Wyress herself. They bestowed blessing after blessing upon her, fed her well, and gave her a soft, comfortable bed to sleep in. When she awoke the next morning, she broke her fast with them and thanked them graciously before heading north to the Wyrd Tree.

She met one of the Wyresses standing on a hillock surrounded by vines. She walked up behind her and said, "Excuse me."

The woman jolted and turned around quickly. "What! Who . . . damn it all! The last person who snuck up on me got a sword in the gut for his trouble!"

"I didn't sneak; I just walked up. Ileana sent me to help you. I'm supposed to speak to Wyress Gwen."

"Sorry," said the witch sheepishly. "Old habit. I was in the guard before I joined the Wyrd. I'm Gwen. You're here to help? Lovely. The damn Bloodthorns have taken the Wyrd Tree! I don't know what you can do, but I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Let's just go about it bit by bit. What's the first thing we can try?"

"Well, we have rituals we can use to try to cleanse the corruption, but we can't get near the tree and the cultists stole our portal stones. We need those stones so that we can get to our enclave without being seen. I would have tried taking the stones back myself, but I'm no fighter anymore."

"I'll get your stones back. I'm assuming the cultists have them?"

"Yes. But not being of the Wyrd, I don't know if the incantation will work for you."

"A Wyrd incantation worked for me yesterday, so it's worth a try. And I do have a bit of magicka myself."

"Yes, I can sense your dragon magic, and something else, something . . . indefinable. Very well. When you get the stones, go to the huts near the tree and open portals for the sisters. The incantation is, '_Lo duf tienvay_.'" She handed Amelia a smooth, round gem. "This is my portal stone. When the others have been taken care of, use mine to port me to the entrance of the tree."

"'_Lo duf tienvay.'_ All right, you stay here for now."

Amelia walked through the glade where Gwen stood and out into a clearing where she could see the Wyrd Tree. She had seen it before, of course—it wasn't all that far from where she grew up—but she could never get over its size. It was at least 300 feet tall and had to be half a mile in diameter, and its roots spread out for miles. The Wyresses lived inside and around the massive tree, and it was usually a place of incredible peace, but now the tree and its environs looked sick. The bark was a dull gray and the leaves had taken on the yellowish hue of the vines that choked its base. The scent of mold and rotten wood permeated the air. The appearance and the aura the tree put out gave her chills.

She engaged several cultists as she circled the tree, fighting with righteous anger at what they had done to this scenic place. She couldn't help wondering if she _had_ become more attuned with the Wyrd the evening before with all the blessings the sisters bestowed on her. She certainly _felt_ like she was part of the tree, and she fought like mad to save it. With only minor injuries, she took down several cultists and retrieved four portal stones. There were four shacks, one at each directional point on the map, and Amelia entered them and used the stones and incantation to open doorways for the Wyresses to come through and work their magic.

She finally used Wyress Gwen's stone and brought her to the door of the tree. "What's next?" she asked.

"Now we need to summon the Guardians. With their help, we can cleanse this place of Angof's foul influence. But his cursed vines choke their totems and prevent them from getting near the tree. The vines around the totems, and the specters that guard them, must be destroyed."

"Where do I find the totems?"

"The totem for the Guardian of the Air is up the hill to the north. The Guardian of the Earth, in the meadow to the east. The Guardian of the Water, in the swamps to the south, near the waterfall."

"I'm off, then."

Amelia trekked up a nearby hill and found the totem in a clearing behind a large rock formation. It was little more than a skull on a stick, but it radiated powerful magic. But the magic was . . . off, choked by the vine wrapped around the totem. She used her flame sword and chopped it at the base, and the vine disintegrated with a screech.

The Guardian of the Air appeared next to her. "Retribution must be swift," she declared, coalescing as she spoke and dissipating during the pause between sentences. "The Wyrd Tree must continue to reach for the sky; you must defeat the Corruption of Air. When I call, come to me and I will protect you."

There was a sudden shriek behind her, and Amelia was yanked backward. She turned around to peer into the face of a specter with empty eyes and a gaping, toothless maw. It was cloaked in rags that flowed around it as if blown by an invisible wind, and a red light glowed around it as well. She swung her blades for all she was worth as the ghost cast life-stealing magic over her.

"The tide turns," said the Guardian. "Come to me!"

Amelia retreated to the shelter of the Guardian, who surrounded her like smoke, healing her and returning the life that was stolen from her. The spirit tried to jerk her back again, but the Guardian coalesced between her and the spirit. But she couldn't fight the spirit from behind the Guardian, so she had to charge forward once more. She finally managed to take the specter down, and she collapsed next to the totem, exhausted.

The Guardian of the Air drifted over to her and waved a hand, and Amelia instantly felt better. "You have done well," said the Guardian, "but there is no time to rest. The totems of earth and water still stand corrupted. Go now."

Amelia nodded and got up, then headed down the hill and east toward the meadow where the earth totem rested. She had to fight a lurcher and a Bloodthorn cultist on the way, but she persevered with grim determination. She was getting really tired of Angof and his Bloodthorns.

The fights at the earth and water totems were much the same as with the air totem, almost as if they were scripted. The Guardians protected her from the specters and healed each injury, and they continued to take away her physical exhaustion, but they couldn't do anything about the mental weariness. She needed to rest, but they had to take the tree first.

After the totems were cleansed, Amelia met Wyress Gwen at the entrance.

"I can feel the oppressive weight of Angof's corruption lifting!" Gwen exclaimed. "I sense the gratitude of the Guardians, but I also sense . . . fear. Angof's vermin are afraid of you. The spirits of corruption have been destroyed, I take it?"

"Yes, they're gone."

"You've done well, Champion. There's one more challenge we have to face."

"The tree."

Gwen nodded. "We cleansed the land around the tree, but the corruption still festers in its heart. Angof's last wraith rests within the tree and won't be banished easily, but the Guardians will help you."

Amelia sighed heavily. "All right. Here I go." She opened the door and stepped into the heart of the Wyrd Tree.

In other circumstances, it would be a place of beauty. The heart of the tree was a great, arched chamber surrounded by huge roots, and light from an unseen source illuminated the chamber. A pool rested in the center, and delicate blue flowers grew on the banks among sacred stones. The Guardians were there, hovering just above the bank. But the vines also encircled the pool and wrapped around the roots, strangling the life out of them and casting deep shadows around the perimeter. The pool was murky and foul smelling, and yellow mist rose from the surface. And in the center floated Angof's wraith. It looked like the other ones, cloaked, glowing red, radiating malice, but it was quite a bit bigger.

"Quickly!" said the Guardian of the Water. "Destroy this foulness! Set the Wyrd Tree free!"

Amelia didn't care how big it was. It was time to end this. She uttered a few words, and ethereal dragon wings burst from her shoulders with a boom, carrying her body through the air toward the spirit. She descended on it with both blades high in the air, stabbing down through its head and knocking it several feet away. It charged back in, and she danced around it, swinging her blades and connecting with its rags time and again. It cast its life-sucking spell on her, though, and she tired quickly.

"To me!" called the Guardian of the Air. Amelia fell back to the Guardian, who protected her from the wraith's onslaught long enough to heal her, and then she went back out.

She knew the only reason her energy held out was the assistance she was getting from the Guardians, but she put it to good use. But there was more. Not only was her energy enhanced, it seemed her skills were as well. Splashing through the water and wielding her swords with a speed and grace she had never known, she hacked away at the wraith, taking one more break to be healed before wearing it down. It dissipated at last into a blast of red light.

But another specter filled the space, this one just a vision, a projection that could only be Angof himself. He was tall, heavily muscled, wearing steel armor and a ragged mask that showed only his eyes. She stepped back to the protection of the Guardian of the Water, but as she looked at this vision, she realized that whatever he was—gravesinger, Reachman, necromancer, tainted by evil—he was just a human. For all his power, he was just a man, and she could defeat him.

"Fool!" Angof snarled, "you have destroyed one of my slaves, but I have so many more."

"And I'll destroy them too," Amelia retorted. "And you."

Without another word, the vision vanished, as did the Guardians. Amelia was alone in the heart of the Wyrd Tree. She watched as the vines retreated from the roots, almost as though they were growing in reverse, and the water began to clear. The scent of blossoms replaced that of mold and rot. Before long, it was as though the corruption had never existed. Amelia felt great relief, and her heart filled with joy.

Gwen stepped through the door and joined her. "It's so beautiful!" she said. "Thanks to you, the Wyrd Tree has been restored."

"I was just glad I could help."

"Thank the Guardians you did! We were losing this battle, but you have won it for us."

All of a sudden, Amelia's euphoria fell away and exhaustion set in. Before she could respond to Wyress Gwen, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed into a dead faint.

* * *

"_You've done well, my child. Trust me, and I will guide you."_

"_I trust you, my Lady."_

She awoke in one of the huts outside the Wyrd Tree with Wyress Gwen sitting next to her cot. "You're awake," she acknowledged.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days. Your battles took a lot out of you, and you needed rest."

"Thanks for taking care of me," she said, sitting up.

Gwen handed her a bowl of stew. "Eat. Regain your strength."

Amelia took the stew and spooned it into her mouth. It was delicious, and she was ravenous. When she was finished eating, she said, "One of the Guardians said I was touched by the gods, and I've been having dreams. Do you know how I can find out who is guiding me?"

"I'm afraid I do not. The gods do things their own way, and in their own time. If you truly are touched by the gods, take it as a gift, and use it. But don't question it."

"Easier said than done; I'm practical, and visions and disembodied voices don't set well with me. So. What's next?"

"A hunter, Gloria Fausta, came looking for help while you were asleep. I'm ashamed to say we turned her away, but as I said, none of us are fighters. But you might be able to help her."

"Where did she go?"

"Aldcroft. She said werewolves had captured Camlorn and the duke had fled. Chamberlain Weller in Aldcroft should know more."

Amelia sighed. "Couldn't it be somewhere other than Aldcroft?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My hometown. And not a happy place for me. Still, I won't abandon them if they're in need."

"Rest for a day or two; regain your strength before you head out. If you're going to be fighting werewolves, you'll need it."

"Is there any chance you can get a message to Daggerfall? I have a friend who's sort of a werewolf expert."

"Of course."

"Send a message to Kireina Skaarsgard. You can deliver it care of Aresin, Captain of the Guard; he'll know where to find her."

"It will be done today. But for now, you must rest."

Amelia reached out and took Wyress Gwen's hand. "Thank you for everything, Gwen."

"No, Red. Thank _you_."

Gwen left the hut and Amelia lay back on the cot. Aldcroft, ugh. Well, just because she was going there didn't mean she had to see _him._ Who was she kidding? Of course it did. The village wasn't that big. But she had come a long way since the last time she had been there, and she had no reason to be afraid anymore.

If that was so, why did the mere mention of her hometown give her chills?

* * *

Characters and settings c.2014 Zenimax Online Studios

12


	4. LOS 4 - Aldcroft

Lady of Storms Four

Aldcroft

It was raining when Amelia arrived in Aldcroft, although in her mind, even the rain couldn't make the place more depressing. The townspeople would say it was a thriving hub of the shipping industry, but while cargo ships did indeed dock there, the village itself was a sty: a few hovels centered around an open-air market and dock area, with a lighthouse off to the south and a handful of campsites thrown in for good measure. A dozen or so decent houses were scattered here and there, but they only served to make the rest of the town seem more desolate. It rested at the southeastern edge of the Glenumbra Moors; and with Iliac Bay directly to the east, there wasn't a lot of dry land, only a series of small islands connected to each other by footbridges. Two roads led out of town and met up with major thoroughfares that connected it to Daggerfall and Camlorn, but both were rife with crocodiles. The humidity was oppressive year round, not to mention the stench of wood rot and fish. She had been used to it growing up, but it was amazing how being away for a few years could make a person forget. Either that, or it had gotten worse over time.

She stopped at the crest of the bridge on the way into town, looking from house to house and hovel to hovel, dreading actually going in. She was tempted to turn and leave them to their fate, but a threat like this wouldn't stay confined to Aldcroft for long. Besides, if what she heard was true, the people of Camlorn might be affected as well. She'd had work in Camlorn before, and it was a nice place. She wouldn't leave _them_ to their fate. Thus, with a deep breath and a slight tremble in her hands, she crossed the bridge.

A guard standing at the end of the bridge eyed her warily. "Stay out of trouble, and we'll get along just fine. We have enough trouble with—"

"Oh, piss off, Girard."

The guard's eyes widened. "Red, is that you? You're looking good."

She rolled her eyes at Girard and continued on into the village. The first thing she noticed, even from the edge of town, was that the population of Aldcroft had tripled since she had been there. Most of the new people were set up on the docks, near the bridges, or in a military encampment by the big gates onto the moors. She stopped to ask one of the campers what was going on.

"Refugees," the man said, "from Camlorn."

"Then it's true?"

He nodded. "You heard about the werewolves, then?"

"I did. Thank you, friend." She turned and headed toward Chamberlain Weller's house.

She found him standing on the front porch with a couple of townspeople. "Red!" said the chamberlain. "I must confess I didn't expect to ever see you again."

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said coldly.

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. "It is good to see you, I assure you."

"Whatever. I was sent by the Beldama Wyrd. A hunter named Gloria Fausta was asking for help, and I was told to come see you."

Weller shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name. Duke Sebastien of Camlorn was kidnapped; perhaps she was taken along with him. I wouldn't put it past those damn Bloodthorns."

"Where do they have the duke?"

"Are you saying you want to help Aldcroft, Red?"

"I'm here to help the duke and see what can be done about the werewolves. And I don't work for free."

"Understood."

"Now, tell me what happened."

"These bumbling town guards allowed him to get abducted, that's what happened!"

"Bumbling?" she echoed with amusement.

"At least the Lion Guard has arrived to pick up the slack from the town guards, but I'm sure they could use help. I know you can handle yourself."

"Do you, now?" Amelia sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Speak to Lieutenant Harim. He's at the lighthouse."

"The lighthouse? Really?"

Chamberlain Weller shrugged apologetically. "That's where they took him."

"Any idea what the Bloodthorns are planning?"

"I could guess. Most of our force is besieging Camlorn, so Aldcroft is vulnerable. There's no leadership with the duke out of commission, so the Bloodthorns can take Aldcroft and then hit the Camlorn forces from the rear."

"Isn't that kind of . . . backhanded?"

"Who can understand their reasoning?"

"You said there's no leadership here. What about you and _him_?"

"I'm no good with military strategy, and your father is at Camlorn."

"He left his own men to go where he thought the best action would be. I take it that's why you said the town guards were bumbling?"

"Not so much bumbling as disorganized."

Amelia hated the town more with every word out of Weller's mouth. She just had to check herself to keep from becoming unreasonable. There was a job to do, and she couldn't let her personal feelings get the better of her. "I suppose it never occurred to one of his lieutenants to step up and take over, did it? Or did he take all of his officers with him and leave the young grunts to pick up the slack? Or just intimidate them so much, they didn't know what to do without him?"

"Perhaps you could help them?" She raised an eyebrow at him and glared until he said, "No, I suppose I shouldn't ask you to do that."

"I'll find Lieutenant Harim out by the lighthouse."

The lighthouse was set apart from Aldcroft proper and stood a short distance down the shore along with a few houses. This was the upper-class part of town, the beachfront homes of Aldcroft's rich and famous, including _him_. Hewas captain of the guard and second in rank only to the chamberlain. Amelia had grown up with the rays of the lighthouse and the sound of waves crashing on the shore coming in her bedroom window. It should have been a magical place to grow up. Funny how life can take the beauty out of things. Then again, it wasn't really life at all that took the beauty, just one man. Chamberlain Weller liked to call him her father, but he was no father.

She made her way up the path and over several footbridges until she passed the place she had once called home, a two-story stone house with a vegetable garden in the yard. It was dark now, what with _him_ being gone and all, and she was just as glad for it. She wouldn't have to deal with the bastard.

A Redguard in a Lion Guard uniform knelt at the end of a footbridge near the house. He was crouched in the brush, silently watching the activity at the lighthouse.

"Are you Lieutenant Harim?" she asked, crouching next to him.

"Watch yourself," he whispered. "This place is thick with Bloodthorn cultists."

"I'm here to help rescue the duke. Chamberlain Weller sent me."

He looked her over dubiously. "I need a seasoned warrior."

She wasn't insulted by the comment. Indeed, the ability to get underestimated was an asset. But she assured him, "I'm older than I look, and I know what I'm doing."

"Very well. The duke is in the lighthouse, but we'll have to wait for reinforcements before going in."

"How many are there?"

"Cultists? From what I've seen, I'd say four between us and him."

Amelia nodded. "Not a problem. I'll get the duke; you just make sure none of the cultists slips away."

"You're a bold one. Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

"I guess we'll find out."

She rose up a bit and looked the connecting island over. One cultist stood at the end of the bridge and one was at the door to the lighthouse. Another sat next to the wall on the side toward the back, drinking from a tankard. He would die first. She stepped into the knee-deep water, wading slowly and quietly across to the opposite shore, where she drew one sword and slipped up behind the drinker. Swiftly and silently, she drew her blade across his throat, and he crumpled from his chair in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

The other two wouldn't be as easy; they were too close to each other to take out without notice, but she had a couple of good spells to assist her. She wasn't a bad sneak, but if she could immobilize one with her Dark Talons spell, she wouldn't have to worry about it anyway. Amelia stepped back into the water, wading toward the bridge. She crept closer and closer, until she was less than fifteen feet from him; then she pointed her free hand toward him and whispered the incantation. Razor-sharp talons shot up from the ground and trapped him, biting into his armor so he couldn't move, and Amelia darted up behind him and thrust her sword into his side.

"What the—" the cultist at the door, a woman, began. She came running toward the bridge just as the first cultist recovered and tried to turn on Amelia. But the spell had done its job; he was stuck, already injured, and he fell to another strike of Amelia's sword before the talons wore off. She pulled her blade from the dead cultist's chest and drew her second one to challenge the woman, who came at her with twin daggers.

"Daggers?" Amelia teased. "Aww, isn't that cute!"

"You'll die by these daggers." She darted past Amelia's swords and stabbed her in the stomach before she could dodge.

"Damn it! All right, so you're fast." Turning swiftly, she swung her frost sword around and caught the cultist in the shoulder. The woman cried out and swiped with a dagger, laying a deep gash in Amelia's right arm. But in the end, her blades were just too short, and she didn't survive Amelia's next blow with the flame sword. Hoping nobody heard the muffled cheer from Lieutenant Harim, Amelia dragged the cultists down the bank to hide them under the footbridge and made her way to the lighthouse door.

Harim had estimated four people between them and the duke. If that was so, then one cultist waited inside the lighthouse. She didn't like the uncertainty, but there was nothing for it. She sheathed her frost sword and opened the door with her free hand. There was indeed a cultist in the room, going over some paperwork. He evidently thought she was one of his comrades, because he didn't even look up at first, giving Amelia time to reach him before he realized she was hostile. She got in a good jab to his shoulder; but he rolled out of his chair, came up to his knees, and leveled a palm at her, calling a fireball into his hand, then lobbed it toward her head. Dodging but still getting singed, Amelia charged him and ran him through before he could get off another shot.

"You're doing to die," he whispered smugly, blood gurgling to his lips. "You're _all_ going to die, and Angof will raise you to serve in his army." He perished with a sinister grin on his face.

"Well, that was disconcerting." She wiped the blood from her sword and assessed her injuries. She drank one of the Wyresses' powerful concoctions to help the slash to her arm and the burns, but the stab wound to the gut was going to need stitches. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought to ask the Wyresses for anything to stitch herself up if necessary. She knew from playing around the lighthouse as a child that a medical kit was in a cabinet by the ladder, and she went to the cabinet and found the kit still intact. She poured a bit of a regular healing potion into the wound and squeezed her eyes shut at the sting; then as quickly as she could, she put a few rough sutures into the gash. It took way too long, and she was afraid someone would walk in at any time, but no one entered in the ten minutes or so it took to apply the stitches and bandage. When she was finished, she drank another healing potion, stuffed the remainder of the bandages, catgut, needles, and salves from the med kit into her knapsack, and started up the ladder.

The duke was at the top, tied up and surrounded by a filmy ward. Two dark-purple crystals floated in the air, keeping the ward in place.

"You don't look like a Bloodthorn cultist," said the duke, a distinguished-looking Breton in his late forties, as he struggled against his bonds. "I assume this is a rescue attempt?"

"Not just an attempt. I'm going to get you out of here."

"You'll need to smash the focus crystals. I'm a bit of a mage, but I'm afraid I'm powerless with this ward around me."

"They went to an awful lot of trouble to immobilize you. Did they see you as a threat?"

"They said they were waiting."

"For what?"

He hesitated, but then said, "I'm not sure."

Amelia drew her frost sword and swung at the first crystal. It cracked but held firm, so she swung again as hard as she could. This time it shattered, and the duke groaned in pain.

"Sorry," she uttered sympathetically.

"It's all right. Now the second one."

She smashed the second crystal with no trouble, and the duke cried out in agony but then sighed with relief as the pain quickly subsided. He muttered an incantation, and the ward surrounding him disappeared.

"Thank you—what's your name?"

"Amelia. Red."

"Thank you, Red, but I'm not the only prisoner. There's a woman, apparently someone who does pose a threat to the beasts. They plan to execute her."

"That must be Gloria. Any idea where she is?"

"I heard the cultists talking; they have her in one of the nearby houses. I'll get myself out of here; you go find her."

"I'm not going to just let you run off unprotected, Your Grace. We'll go downstairs together, and I'll make sure the coast is clear. A Lion Guard lieutenant is waiting just across the bridge, and he can get you the rest of the way to safety."

"Agreed. When you find her, I'll want to speak to her. If she really is a threat to them, perhaps she can help us."

She led the duke downstairs and waited until he was safely across the bridge, then turned to search the other houses. There were three on the island with the lighthouse, and after fighting a handful of cultists and sustaining a few more minor cuts, bruises, and burns, she entered the house on the far end. The one-room cottage was home to a merchant and his wife, but the interior was ransacked and the merchant lay dead on the floor. The wife was nowhere to be seen, but a woman was tied up in the center of the room. She was dark-haired and attractive, with the well-tanned skin of someone who spent most of her time outside.

"You wouldn't happen to be Gloria Fausta, would you?"

The woman raised an eyebrow in response. "They sent _you_ to be my executioner? You couldn't lift the axe, let alone deal with all the blood."

"Be nice; I'm here to free you."

"Splendid! Cut me loose and we'll go kill Faolchu and his werewolf dogs!"

She pulled a dagger out of her pack that was more a utility than a weapon, and as she cut Gloria free, she said, "I hear you pose a threat."

"Let's just say I have a unique perspective, some inside knowledge that will help put an end to the mangy dog."

"We need to go back to Aldcroft before we go for Faolchu. Duke Sebastien wants to speak with you."

She stood up and rubbed her wrists, which were raw from the binds. "I don't have time to talk with the duke—oh, very well. Let's just get this over with."

Amelia grudgingly lent Gloria her frost sword, and they made their way back to Aldcroft together. They only encountered two cultists—a pair she had missed on her way in—and they made short work of them. When they arrived in town, they went to Chamberlain Weller's house to see the duke.

He was sitting in the living room with his wife and daughter. He pulled Gloria aside for a lengthy discussion, during which the duchess expressed her undying gratitude to Amelia for saving her husband. After a few moments, the duke called Amelia over.

"Gloria has expressed serious concerns about Camlorn and Aldcroft with respect to Faolchu and the werewolves," he told her, "and I share those concerns. We would likely be dead if not for you, and you have our thanks. I'm hoping we can count on you to help us eliminate the werewolves."

"I'll do what I can."

"Gloria suspects Faolchu's agents are among us, here and now."

"You mean in Aldcroft?"

"We believe they may be hiding among the refugees on the docks," said Gloria. "You and I are going to root them out and kill them."

"But how do we do that? Werewolves can hide in human form; they're practically undetectable." Having Kireina on hand would have come in very handy at the moment.

Gloria pulled an amulet from around her neck and handed it to Amelia. "This can locate hidden werewolves. We'll have to be careful, because they don't appreciate having their secrets revealed."

"Let's go, then."

"I need to stop by the Lion Guard encampment to arm myself first."

They left the duke's house and headed across town toward the camp. "So how does this amulet work?" Amelia asked on the way.

"It bears the Call of Hircine. Werewolves can't resist the call, and they're forced to reveal their true nature."

"Gloria, how do you know all this?"

"You should mind your own business!"

"So it's a big secret? That lends itself to all sorts of assumptions, now, doesn't it?"

Gloria sighed heavily. "All right, fine. I know so much about werewolves because I hunt them. Faolchu is my ancestor, and my family has had to deal with that shame for generations. I do what I can to make up for the atrocities he perpetrated."

"Wait, he's your _ancestor_? I didn't know werewolves were immortal."

"Oh, Faolchu is long dead. I don't know how, but he's back."

"Angof," Amelia said shortly. "He's a necromancer."

"And he raised him from the dead? Lovely."

After Gloria armed herself with a sword and shield, they began wandering the docks, surreptitiously holding the amulet toward refugees as they passed. Nothing happened initially, and Amelia began to wonder if it really worked, but then someone had a reaction.

"It hurts! My skin is on fire!" cried a man just outside one of the warehouses. He looked up and snarled at them, his eyes burning with fury. "I'll chew on your bones and gulp your blood!"

"Die, you werewolf scum!" Gloria cried.

He only took an instant to shift. They were on him immediately, three swords against his claws, but it was still a hairy fight. Refugees ran screaming as they battled the creature, blood and fur flying, cries of pain and angry snarls ringing through the air. Amelia came very close to being bitten, and Kireina crossed her mind again. Her friend wouldn't like it if someone else turned her.

When all was said and done, the werewolf lay dead on the ground, still in beast form, and Amelia and Gloria were covered in blood and gore.

"Well," said the werewolf hunter. "That was fun."

"If you say so." But she had to admit she had enjoyed it too. She loved a good fight, and she had a lot of anger to work off.

They found three more wolves on the docks, and by the time they reported to the chamberlain's house in the wee hours of the morning, they were exhausted. The duke sat by the fire nursing a brandy, and he sprung out of his seat when they entered.

"By the Eight! I assume by your appearances that Faolchu's cursed offspring are here in Aldcroft."

"I'm afraid so, Your Grace," said Amelia.

"It seems that once again, I'm in your debt. As is Aldcroft. I've been informed by Chamberlain Weller that you're a sellsword. Be assured, Red, you will be well paid."

"Thank you. What's next?"

"What's next is we need to capture a live werewolf," said Gloria.

"Um, what?"

"You postulated that Faolchu had been summoned from the dead by a necromancer. We need to learn more, and I doubt any of them are just going to give us information. I can do a ritual to force the information from them, but I need a live one."

"You couldn't have said that _before_ we killed the last one on the docks? Fine. But tomorrow. You and I are both beat."

"Agreed." Gloria turned to the duke. "We'll find out how we can defeat Faolchu and then report back here."

"Very good. And be careful."

* * *

Amelia and Gloria spent the night at the military camp. After a bath and a good night's rest, Gloria prepared to set up her ritual in a cave on the shore north of Aldcroft. She directed Amelia to Sergeant Armoil Viranes, who evidently knew of a way to capture a werewolf.

"So you want to get one alive, eh?" said the sergeant, a heavily armored soldier with a shaven head and a stern visage.

"Aye. Gloria said you could help me with that."

"Indeed I can. We captured a werewolf at Camlorn, for a little while, at least. Lexi! Front and center!"

A pixie-cute soldier in leather armor emerged from a tent and dashed over. "Yes, Sergeant!"

"This is Battlemage Lexi. Lexi, our friend here needs to capture a werewolf."

"Right, I can help with that." She turned to Amelia and handed her an amulet. "Hold onto this; you'll need it to hold the werewolf once we capture it. So here's what we'll do: you fight the werewolf and keep it busy, but don't kill it. I'll cast a spell to enthrall it."

"What's the incantation?"

"Just do your part and leave the magic to me. I'm an expert." Amelia just waited, and Lexi finally said, "Oh, all right. It's _rot soleo, altoor faolsin_. But _I_ will use it."

"Of course. Thank you, Sergeant."

Amelia and Lexi made their way out of the large military gates on the north side of Aldcroft and headed out onto the moors. The smell of rot was even more prominent out here. The ground was soft and soggy, completely submerged in many places. Low hillocks were home to crocodiles, nirnroot, and various colorful mushrooms. And werewolves. Looking out across the expanse of the moors, Amelia spotted no less than three of them.

"Divines preserve us," Lexi muttered softly.

"Don't worry; they're fairly spread out. We shouldn't have to bother with more than one if we're lucky. Let's go."

They sloshed across the landscape until one of the beasts picked up their scents and charged them. Amelia fought it off while Lexi cast her spell, and suddenly the werewolf gagged and choked, then fell dead in the water.

"Er, I think that time I overdid it. Let's get another one."

While Lexi cast the spell, Amelia engaged the next werewolf, keeping a careful eye on the third one, who was a bit too close for comfort. It was busy eating a crocodile, though, and ignored them. She managed a few crippling strikes before Lexi said, "Got him!"

But like the first one, it gagged and perished.

"No, no, I haven't. Oh, mudcrabs! Now we need another werewolf."

They approached the werewolf eating the crocodile, and Lexi cast her spell again. If it didn't work this time, Amelia was going to try it herself. But this time a glimmering ward appeared around the beast, and he howled in frustration.

"By Julianos, it worked!"

"Thanks, Lexi," said Amelia, doing her best to suppress her annoyance at having to fight three werewolves while the young mage fumbled with the spell. "I'll take him to the cave, and you get back to Aldcroft."

She led the werewolf across the moors and around the narrow bayshore to the cave. He followed along, cursing at her every step of the way, but she ignored him. She could understand his anger, but she didn't want to start a conversation with him, so she stayed quiet.

Gloria was waiting for them deep inside the cave, in the center of a small henge. She stood among several altars, which were laden with candles, herbs, and crystals. "You caught one! Good, let's get him into the circle. I'll create a link between the three of us so we can see into the werewolf's past—and hopefully Faolchu's past as well. The connection between sire and offspring is strong."

Amelia pointed to the center of the circle and said, "Stand there."

The werewolf growled at her but obeyed.

Amelia stood next to Gloria, who held her hands out and uttered a complicated incantation. The ward around the werewolf glowed, and a ghostly shape appeared behind him. Amelia thought someone was actually there for a moment, but then she realized it was only a vision, a memory. And it was a face she recognized.

"Now the legendary werewolf lord shall fulfill Molag Bal's purpose!" Angof boasted. "Arise, minion. Arise from the dead!"

A werewolf crawled out of the ground before Angof and growled. "I serve no one, Reachman!"

"Serve or suffer, cur! I've bound you to my will."

Faolchu thrashed, crying out in agony until he finally relented. "Yea! Yea, I will submit to you!" He stopped writhing and snarled, "But know this: one day soon I will rip out your heart and eat it whole."

"Empty boasts from Molag Bal's newest slave. Come, Faolchu. We have business."

The image faded, leaving only Amelia, Gloria, and the captured werewolf.

"So it _was_ Angof," said Gloria. "If we kill Faolchu, Angof will just raise him again. The only way to stop Faolchu is to kill Angof."

"Aye, I'm afraid it's going to come to that. But we're going to see what else we can do first."

"You! Humans!" the werewolf called. They turned to him and he said, "You are fools. You have failed; your duke has been given Hircine's blessing, and he will destroy everything he loves. Now release me or kill me. Just get on with it!"

Amelia drew her flame sword and swung it, laying open the werewolf's throat with the odor of blood and burning fur. He collapsed to the floor before her.

"Shit!" Gloria groaned. "I was worried that he'd been given the curse."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"There is, but I've learned a bit about you over the last couple of days and you're not going to like it. I need to die, and you need to take my blood."

"What? You can't be serious."

"Red, we're wasting time! If administered in time, the blood of the master can cure the blood of the spawn."

Amelia shook her head. "No. Not gonna happen. We'll figure something out, but we need you alive. We'll capture him, and maybe we can find a cure or something. Killing either of you is a last resort."

"If that were possible, don't you think we'd have found it by now?"

"I'm not giving up on this, Gloria!"

"Well, I hope your noble attitude doesn't get us all killed."

"I'm no noble. I have more common sense than that."

They went back together and found the duke standing alone outside the house. He was doubled over in pain.

"You've been infected, Your Grace," Amelia said without preamble. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I should have told you; I'm sorry. I suppose you'll kill me now."

"We won't kill you; Camlorn needs you." She handed Gloria Lexi's charm. "I think I remember Lexi's incantation. You use this to hold him when I'm done."

Gloria raised an eyebrow at Amelia, then shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"Let me just say goodbye to my wife and daughter first," the duke pleaded.

Amelia shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why you heartless—"

"Your Grace, you could lose control and change at any moment. Do you want them to see you like that—or worse, die at your hands?"

The duke seemed to shrink as he sighed dejectedly. "No. You're right, of course. Do what you have to do."

Saying a silent prayer to the Divines that she didn't accidentally kill the duke, Amelia held her hand toward him and said, "R_ot soleo, altoor faolsin_!" He writhed in pain for just a moment before he calmed, surrounded by the filmy glow. "Are you comfortable, Your Grace?"

"It's nothing I can't handle," he replied stiffly.

Gloria chuckled mirthlessly. "I've never had a werewolf as a pet before."

"Just take care of him. And yourself."

"I won't harm him unless I have no choice, although I think Faolchu would think of mercy as a weakness."

"To Oblivion with Faolchu. We're gonna kill him, and hopefully we can figure out how to keep him from being brought back again."

"The duke had the Mages Guild working on that problem. They're at Glenumbra Moors, trying to figure out how he died the first time. Maybe you could talk to them."

Amelia nodded. "I'll head there; you take the duke to Camlorn."

Gloria placed a hand on Amelia's shoulder. "Thank you, Red. For not letting me die."

"No thanks are necessary; you know I couldn't do that. I'll see you when I reach Camlorn."

* * *

Characters and settings c.2014 Zenimax Online Studios

12


	5. LOS 5 - Time Magic

Lady of Storms Five

Time Magic

At the center of the vast swamp of Glenumbra Moors lay the site of an ancient battle between the Direnni and the Alessians. They called it a fort, but there really wasn't much to it except for a few rotting log walls and a cave with a heavy door. Today it was teeming with people, mostly mages, who stood outside the gate, peering onto the battlefield or casting spells. A large tent stood off to one side, and smaller ones were placed nearby.

An officious-looking orc stood near the gate, and Amelia went up to her. "I'm looking for whoever is in charge," she said. "I'm from Aldcroft."

"Ah, a messenger! You can talk to me; I'm Conjuror Grahla."

"I'm Red."

With a chuckle, she said, "You certainly are. What news from Aldcroft? We heard refugees from Camlorn inundated the village."

"Not just refugees. Werewolves tried to take over the town, but we were able to stop them."

"Good, good! Losing Camlorn was bad enough. We've made significant progress here, however. Our research is finally beginning to yield results. Now if we can just get past the ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"As I'm sure you know, Faolchu fought and died on this battlefield all those years ago, but they didn't call him the Invincible General for nothing. You could cut him, bash him, fill him full of arrows, and nothing dropped him."

"Obviously _something_ killed him."

"Some_one_. We call him The Nameless Soldier because his identity was lost to history. As for _how_ he did it, that's what we're trying to find out. If we can discover how Faolchu died, it will offer clues as to how to defeat him now."

"And how do we do that?"

"Sarvith, our Master of Incunabula, hopes to evoke a vision that shows us the events surrounding Faolchu's death. There are powerful historic artifacts on the field that will help us with that. Unfortunately, the ghosts are making it very difficult to get them. It's been an age since the battle, but the spirits still linger."

"I'll handle the ghosts."

"A handful of mages and Lion Guard soldiers are working on clearing the field as well."

"Any idea what I should be looking for?"

"The generals of the Alessian army played a vital part in the Battle of Glenumbra Moors. Their weapons, if still intact, would suffice as focus objects for our spell. If you can get your hands on them, take them to Sarvith in the tent. In fact, speak to him before you go out there. He might be able to offer some insight."

Amelia went to the large tent, where an Altmer with redder hair than hers spoke to an orc with an expression of derision on his face.

"It's true!" Sarvith said, "Faolchu was as tall as a tree, with claws like greatswords."

"Yes, yes," the orc grumbled, "and he breathed fire and ate warriors for dinner, armor and all. Give me a break, Sarvith."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Amelia called from the door.

The elf looked over and gave her a toothy smile. "So you're here to help, eh? We heard you out there with Grahla. Bhagrun here claims that the threat Faolchu poses is greatly exaggerated. But he's an orc, right? They slay dragons before breakfast."

"There's no such thing as dragons, you idiot," said Bhagrun.

"Poor fool wouldn't know a moth from a mammoth."

Amelia chuckled uncomfortably. "Grahla said you might have some advice for fighting the spirits on the battlefield."

"There are two types, as far as we can tell," Bhagrun told her, "wraiths and the ghosts of former soldiers. Neither seems to die any more easily than the other."

"Do you have any magic?" Sarvith asked.

She nodded. "I'm a dragonknight."

"A dragonknight, very good! You should have some useful spells. The fire should work particularly well. And you might use a shield to protect you against frost projectiles."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

She left the tent and made her way onto the field, where she saw a battle that was surely as bloody as the one that had taken place so many years ago. The living fought the dead, and blood and slimy ectoplasm covered the area. The ghosts did fall to swords—and to flame spells, apparently—but their ethereal blades seemed to do as much damage to the live soldiers.

A wraith attacked Amelia before she went twenty feet, and she engaged the creature in much the same way as she had the one inside the Wyrd Tree. She drew on the memory of how she had danced around the wraith while aided by the guardians and was appreciative to see that although she didn't retain the magical energy, she did remember how she had moved. The first few spirits were a cake walk, but when she approached a tent and came upon three of the ectoplasmic soldiers, she had a real fight on her hands.

"Intruder!" the one in the middle cried. He was wearing more elaborate armor than the others, and Amelia figured he was one of the generals.

The soldiers attacked, and she cast a Dark Talons spell at the general, immobilizing him. While he was stuck, she quickly cast another spell, in which an explosive gout of flame spurted forth and engulfed one of the other soldiers, a remnant remaining to spin around her and shoot out more flame every few seconds. Assisted by the flames, Amelia spun from one soldier to the other, dodging blades and ducking in for quick jabs. They dropped just as the general broke free and charged forward. He was tougher than his lieutenants, and Amelia took a few slices to her side and arms, but nothing serious. She parried a rapid jab to her midsection with her frost sword and countered with a similar thrust from her flame sword. He backed up with an "oof" but didn't go down. Instead, he swung his blade at her head, and she had to duck to avoid being decapitated. While she was low, her Inferno spell activated again and covered him with flames. She thrust again with the fire sword, and he finally dropped. The general remained in corporeal form for a moment, and she tried to take the sword, but though it had certainly felt real when it was slicing into her skin, she couldn't touch it now.

How was she going to take the sword with her if she couldn't pick it up? Would some kind of spell do it? Even if it would, she was no mage. Her dragonknight magic was for combat, and though she had picked up a few other spells here and there, there was nothing in her repertoire for picking up ghostly weapons. But suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sun glinting off metal. She turned her head to see the same sword—the real one—sticking up out of the ground. "Oh, thank the gods," she muttered as she walked over and wrestled it out of the soil. She tucked it into her belt and moved on to see what else she could find.

Over the next half hour she managed to collect three swords and a host of minor to medium injuries, including a broken hand. When she returned to Sarvith, she was covered head to toe with blood and gooey ectoplasm.

"Ah, the focus objects!" he exclaimed joyfully when she handed them the swords. Then the smile drained from his face. "You look terrible! Bhagrun?"

The orc stepped forward with a healing staff and cast golden light over her body. He had her hold out her hand so he could mend the break, and even had her turn around so he could get her back. In just a few minutes, all the smarts and stings melted away until all that was left was the blood, the goo, and a minor ache on the side of her left hand. "Better?" Bhagrun asked.

"Much, thank you."

"Now," said Sarvith, "let's just" —the pommel of one of the swords broke free and clattered to the ground—"Hmm, I don't think that was supposed to come off. They're pretty beaten up, but we should have plenty of material for the ritual. Would you care to join us?"

"Sure," Amelia replied with a shrug. She followed them out of the tent to an open area where Sarvith placed one of the swords on the ground between himself and Bhagrun. "What are you doing, exactly?" she asked.

"If this works, we should be able to peer into the past and hopefully see what happened to Faolchu. We'll be using an amalgamated essence of the past, focused with these ancient weapons, to open a sort of window into history. Now, stand back. You never know when a spell is going to backfire."

Amelia backed up, and the Altmer and orc extended their arms toward the sword. Bright blue light shot out from their hands and met in the center, glowing up around the sword. Suddenly a figure appeared in the nimbus.

"Please, you must listen!" said a female voice.

Then the specter disappeared and the light exploded outward, sending shockwaves toward Sarvith and Bhagrun and knocking them both to the ground.

Amelia rushed over to the mages as they got up and dusted themselves off. "Are you all right?"

"All right?" Sarvith echoed. "Of course we're all right! We did it! I think."

"Who was that woman?"

"A fragment from the past, someone who was pulled forward with the spell."

"You mean that was supposed to happen?"

"Well . . . no, but it just means we did better than expected. We didn't create a window to the past; we opened a _door_ into the past! We need only step through."

"And by 'we,' you mean me."

Sarvith lifted his palms to her in supplication. "It has to be you. Who else is brave and rash enough to do it? I'm too important to get stuck in the past, and Bhagrun would probably change history with all his bumbling about."

"Hey!"

The Altmer ignored him. "Go ask Grahla what she thinks we should do."

Amelia went to Grahla, who was involved in a heated discussion with two other mages. She stepped away from them when she saw Amelia.

"We heard an explosion, and then ripples of magical distortion started to sweep across the battlefield. What did they do?"

"They opened a door into history."

"What! They were supposed to cast a simple divination spell, nothing more. Those idiots!"

"Sarvith thinks we can use the door to go back in time and learn about Faolchu's death firsthand."

Grahla shook her head. "I don't like this. Time magic shouldn't be meddled with. But what's done is done, so maybe we can get some use out of it. There are fewer spirits to contend with by now, so maybe you won't have so much trouble getting onto the battlefield. Go out there and examine the ripples created by the spell to see if there really is a doorway. But keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. There's no telling what else they pulled from the past."

"Understood."

Although she figured the mages were better suited for such a task, Amelia drew her swords and stepped back out onto the battlefield. The ripples were easy to see; blue nimbuses glimmered in several locations across the field. The spirits had greatly decreased in number, and she made it to the first ripple without incident. It was centered around a barren tree, an azure glow with small tendrils of purple lightning flickering through the branches. Looking closely at it, she could see nothing that might be useful, but then again, how would she know? She reached toward the ripple, and there was a slight shock and a distinct drop in temperature as her hand met the light.

With a whoosh, the ghostly figure from Sarvith's spell appeared in the nimbus. "You seek to the see into the past. I can guide you."

"Who are you?"

"I am Alana Relin. I died on this battlefield long ago. Go to the crypt. I'll meet you there and show you how to discover the secret you seek." With that, she disappeared.

Amelia looked across the battlefield and finally set her eyes on the crypt, which was in a remote corner. Strangely, it was the only one around. She crossed the field, fighting a couple of ghosts along the way, but made it to the tomb relatively unscathed. She was prepared to pick the lock, but she found the door open, so she carefully descended the stairs.

The room was deserted except for a solitary skeleton, and she was encouraged to see that it wasn't up and walking around. It lay before a sarcophagus, wearing a suit of Direnni armor. The ghost slowly coalesced into view between Amelia and the skeleton. Alana was Breton, pretty, around thirty years old, and she wore armor similar to the skeleton's, although not as elaborately embellished.

"This is where it all started on the day of the final battle," she said nostalgically. "We gave up everything to kill Faolchu. I'll be damned if I'm going to let him be resurrected and curse the world again."

"Is that why you've returned?"

"I've returned because of what the one I love did to save his people."

"What did he do?"

"He sacrificed . . . everything." She nodded to the skeleton. "This armor belonged to my beloved and was buried here with him, in this place of honor. It was his hand that cut Faolchu down."

"And if I put it on?"

"You'll take the place of my beloved—you'll literally reside in his body—and relive the last moments of the battle. But be very careful; you won't just see the events of the past; you'll live them. It will be _your_ decisions that guide the path, and what you do may change the destiny of those around you."

"You mean I can change history? How is that even possible?"

"I can't say. Just know that I understand the terrible burden you must carry. When you are ready, put on the armor."

"How will I return to the present?"

"When Faolchu dies, the armor will eject you from the past. You should return to the here and now, unharmed."

"You don't sound all that confident about that."

"No. No, that should . . . yes, I'm sure of it."

Amelia knelt next to the skeleton and perused the armor. "Do I need to put on the whole set? I don't think it's going to fit me."

"You're right, of course. The armor simply establishes a link with the past, so one piece should do it."

"I don't get this at all."

"You'll understand more as you go. But you're taking it all in stride."

Amelia shrugged. "I've seen some bizarre things these last few months. Kind of getting used to it." She took the pauldrons, pieces she didn't have on her own armor and those she figured would be easiest to get off the corpse. When she finished strapping them to her shoulders, dizziness came over her, and she began to hear sounds of battle up on the surface. She looked down at her hands, but they weren't hers at all; they were those of a man. "This is going to be so weird," she mused.

The dizziness went away after a moment, but it was replaced by confusion. She still knew who she was—sort of—but her thoughts and memories were accompanied by those of another, and she quickly lost track of which memories belonged to whom.

Alana, no longer ghostly but blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful, bounded down the stairs. "There you are, my love! I was starting to worry. Why do you linger in this musty crypt? Commander Parmion rallies the troops for his final assault. You should be at his side for the big moment."

"I'm—I'm not sure what's going on."

"Did that blow to your head rattle your senses?"

"Assume it did. I'm—who am I? What's going on?"

"You're Sir Relin, Commander Parmion's best and most noble knight and captain, you silly man. We're on the verge of turning the tide against Faolchu, and we'll launch our final attack on his headquarters shortly. Come, we have work to do."

"Remind me. What work is that?"

"The Alessian orders, of course. We captured the messenger, but not before he passed the orders off. We need to search enemy soldiers until we retrieve them."

"And I'm supposed to do that, right? I'm starting to remember." _Or am I starting to forget?_

Alana looked at him closely. "Are you sure you're all right, my love? If you're hurt too badly, someone else can retrieve the orders. I can go."

"No, I'm fine, still just a little shaken. I'm on my way to get those orders." He leaned in and kissed Alana softly.

_Was that right?_ came the thought. _Am I Sir Relin, or am I Amelia? Should I even be kissing this woman? Of course I should be kissing her. I'm just confused from the bump on the head._

"Do what you have to do and find those orders," she said, pulling away, "then find me at the camp. We need to talk."

She turned and went up the stairs, and he followed, watching her bum as she walked; then he turned left toward the Alessians' camp. He fought his way through, and though he didn't remember wielding twin swords in the past, he seemed to be very adept at it now. His strength and experience were his own, but his speed and skills were . . . well, they belonged to Amelia, whoever she was. It also felt as though the last time he had crossed this field, he had been battling ghosts. Well, they were real now, and he roared victoriously with every Alessian he cut down.

He found the orders on a commander he slaughtered and made his way back to the Direnni side. When he was safe, he unrolled the scroll and read it. The orders indicated that the enemy was going to use the chaos from the attack to slip around and destroy the Direnni camp, then hit them from behind. A clever plan . . . and oddly familiar. He had heard something recently to the same effect. Something about werewolves and Aldcroft . . .

Relin shook his head to clear it and headed toward the command tent, where he met up with Commander Parmion.

The elf, distinctive by his piercing blue eyes and the gold ring he wore in his nose, placed his hands on his hips. "There you are, my knight. Did you recover the orders?"

"Yea, here they are. They plan to flank us, destroy the camp, and then assault from the rear."

"You are a credit to the Direnni guard," Parmion said proudly. "Now we can prepare a proper counterattack. Take these orders to the Alyeid King. He has just arrived and is eager to get involved."

"The Alyeid King is _here_?"

"Yea, surprised us all. Who would have thought he'd show such interest? But the mer is a brilliant tactician, and any help he's willing to give will be gladly accepted. In the meantime, I'll send Alana and her unit to put an end to Faolchu."

Relin gasped and his heart skipped a beat. "Alana? No! _I_ need to be the one to strike Faolchu down."

"Nonsense! Alana can handle it, and if these orders are any indication, I'll need you to lead our defenses."

No, this wasn't right. He couldn't remember why exactly, but he knew that he, and no one else, was supposed to kill Faolchu. He placed his hands on his hips and paced back and forth nervously.

Parmion placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is the way it must be, Sir Relin. Speak to Alana before you go if you like. Just remember that time is of the essence. And don't forget to talk to the king."

"I'll go to him first."

He approached the king, who was standing near the command tent with a few of his soldiers, and bowed.

"A Breton fighting for the Direnni?" the king noted. "Not unheard of, I suppose, but surprising."

"There is a large contingent of us actually, Your Majesty."

"Your people are honorable. Wait, I recognize that armor. You're the one Parmion spoke so highly of, no? I've heard stories about you before, as well. They say you are blessed by Auri-El himself."

Relin cast his eyes away humbly and handed him the orders. "We recovered these from an Alessian soldier."

The king read the orders and chuckled. "The Alessians intend to slip past our defenses and catch the Direnni 'with their trousers down'? What a curious phrase."

"Any advice?"

"Your specialized armor possesses Direnni magic, no? Use it to spot Alessian Shadow Scouts before they can do any significant damage, and dispatch them." The king eyed him silently for a moment, then said, "Curious."

"What's curious, Your Majesty?"

"These old Alyeid eyes see many things. Everyone in this yard, for instance, radiates an aura of life force. Except for you. I can't tell if you're not truly alive or if you just don't belong."

For just a moment, he remembered Amelia. Was she possessing him? Or perhaps he was possessing her. In any case, he knew the king was correct. "That's very perceptive. You speak right: I don't belong here, although I can't really explain it. But know that I am not here to cause you or any of the Direnni harm."

"Honesty! A redeeming quality. We'll have to speak of this later when time isn't so short. Right now we have a battle to win."

Relin gave a quick bow and headed toward the tent he shared with Alana. He found her sitting on a cot inside the door, tightening the straps on her boots.

She reached out and took his hand. "I know you wanted to go after Faolchu, but you'll see plenty of action defending the camp."

He knelt next to her and said, "I could go with you."

"I appreciate your concern, my love, but orders are orders. But have no fear; I'll make sure we never have to worry about Faolchu again."

"I know you will. What's your plan?"

Alana chuckled. "He's formidable, but he's just a man. I'll kill him the same way I would any other man: I'll stick my sword into him a few times until he drops. I'll be back in no time, carrying his head as a trophy. I can't think of a better gift to celebrate our new family."

Relin's breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded. She couldn't be saying what he thought she was. Not when she was leaving to fight Faolchu. "Our family? Alana, what are you saying?"

"Later, my love. I'll tell you all about it after the battle; no need to distract you now."

"It's too late for that."

She stood up, pulling him up with her and kissing him. "I love you, you know. I'll see you soon."

He held her close, as though it was the last time he would ever do it. They always held each other like that before a battle, saying goodbye, just in case. But this time, somehow he just _knew_ Faolchu would die and they would celebrate together. With one last brief kiss, she turned and slipped out of the tent.

Relin made his way across camp to where Commander Parmion was rallying the troops. This day would bring victory; he was certain of it. It had already happened. That was why he was here: to find out _how_ it had happened. Because Grahla had said swords couldn't kill him . . .

_Oh, gods, no._ That wasn't right. It couldn't be. Besides, he knew no one named Grahla.

He set out onto the battlefield once more, this time skulking in the shadows, using the magic from his armor to remain hidden, and he managed to take out four Shadow Scouts before he came upon one of his own. Scout Loriel lay dying at the base of a large rock formation.

"Captain," he choked, "Faolchu's headquarters. We were ambushed, surrounded. Alana and the others—" But he wasn't able to finish. The light left his eyes, and he perished.

"Damn it," he growled. He gently closed Loriel's eyes, then turned and headed toward the cave where Faolchu made his base.

Outside the cave, he found unadulterated carnage. At least a dozen bodies, Direnni and Alessian alike, were scattered about the bloody field. Only one was alive, Scout Hanil, who was just sitting up. He knelt next to the elf.

"Hanil, can you move?"

The scout nodded. "We tried, captain, but there were too many. Commander Parmion is dead."

"Commander Parmion? How?"

"He decided to accompany us at the last minute. We thought it would just be Faolchu and his officers, but it was a trap. A whole platoon awaited us. The commander fought bravely, but they cut him down. And captain, Alana is missing."

A great weight settled over him as he realized how wrong he had been in the tent. If they had her, he would likely never see his love again. Her comment about their family—he knew what she had meant. She was with child, and he should never have let her go. As if he could _let_ her do anything. Her will was stronger than his own.

He raised his eyes to the heavens and whispered, "Please, bring her back to me."

"I'm afraid there isn't much time," Hanil said, interrupting his thoughts. "We expect Faolchu to launch a full-scale assault at any moment. A few of our men are below, trying to hold them off. There should be enough of us left to defeat them, but we need to find Alana as well."

It was an impossible choice. He could go after Faolchu, or he could look for his love. How could he decide that? Why had they taken her in the first place when they had killed everyone else? Faolchu undoubtedly knew Relin's name. Was he making it personal? Did he have Alana, and did he plan to make him watch while he killed her in an attempt to demoralize him? And _would_ it demoralize him or work him into a frenzy?

_Stick to the mission!_

He heard Alana's voice as clearly as if she had been standing next to him. It's what she would say if she were here, and she would be right. With Parmion dead, he was in command now, and he had to think about the mission. And he knew it had to be him to kill Faolchu. Wasn't that what he was saying earlier?

But how could he leave her?

"Join the men inside," he said. "I'll go find Alana."

"Very well, captain," said Hanil. "I saw someone dragging her up the hill to the south. Perhaps they're keeping her in the camp up there."

Relin made his way up the hill, single-mindedly cutting through Alessians as if he were mowing down a field. He breathed fire—_breathed fire!—_and danced through them as though they were nothing. Alana was tied up in a tower at the top. He bent down and kissed her, then started working on her bindings.

"What are you doing here, my love?"

"I thought it was obvious. After I rescue you, we can join the men inside Faolchu's headquarters."

"You sent them down there?" Alana demanded. "They're walking into a death trap!"

"We'll be there to help them. Let's go."

But when Alana stood up, she faltered. She was hurt.

"What happened?"

"A sword to the side. I'm fine, just unsteady."

Relin placed his hands on her armored belly and shook his head. "Go back to camp and get stitched up. I'll handle Faolchu."

"Take care, love. I was wrong: he's _not_ just a man."

They went back down the hill, and Relin kissed Alana one last time before opening the heavy wooden door and stepping inside, where he found a few dead Direnni. He made his way down a long flight of stairs and into the chambers below, fighting Alessians when he came upon them. In a large room in the farthest reaches of the cave, he found the last remnants of the battle. A few soldiers from each side fought amid several small bonfires, and watching from above was a monstrosity.

Standing on the balcony overlooking the fight was a beast made of nothing but teeth, claws, and fur. He was taller than the most towering Alyeid, and his glowing eyes glared balefully at the carnage below. He roared with rage.

A werewolf.

"Put out those damn fires!" the werewolf bellowed angrily but with the slightest touch of apprehension.

Relin recognized the voice. It was Faolchu himself. He was horrified, but at the same time a grim smile spread across his face because in that instant, he understood how to kill the beast. With that understanding, he charged into the fray, battling alongside the others until no Alessians were left alive.

"Damn you!" Falchou thundered. "I'll kill you myself!" He leapt from the balcony and menaced Relin. "Your puny weapons are no match for my teeth and claws."

Relin didn't answer. Remembering how he had breathed fire on the hill above, somehow calling upon Amelia again, he muttered the quick incantation. Flames shot out and engulfed Faolchu.

"_NO!_" he screamed as his body shifted form. He wasn't so scary now—human, bald, kind of short, and unarmed.

With one hard swing of a sword, Relin laid Faolchu's throat open. Following through with his second sword separated the werewolf's head from his body, and his enemy collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood.

Pain suddenly shot through his body as his armor burst into pieces. One of the shards pierced his chest, and he cried out in anguish as he dropped to his knees. The pain ended as quickly as it began, and he was vaguely aware of his head resting on the stone floor. The image of Alana, alive and well, flashed briefly through his mind, but after that, there was nothing.

"Time for you to go back now," said his own voice softly.

* * *

"Oh!" Amelia gasped. With barely time to take a breath, she was back in the present, in her own skin, and the pauldrons were back on the skeleton before her. Her hand went to her chest, where the pain had been so real, agonizingly real, only a moment ago. She had been, for all intents and purposes, Sir Relin, and she had died. She had been dead. _Dead!_

"Gods!" she whispered as she started up the stairs to the surface. She made her way back to camp where Sarvith, Bhagrun, and Grahla waited.

But Sarvith and Bhagrun were . . . different. "It worked!" Sarvith cried. "Into the past and back again!"

"Sarvith, you and Bhagrun are women!"

The elf and orc looked at her as if she had grown horns.

Bhagrun leveled her healing staff at Amelia, but she waved it off. "I'm fine, just a bit rattled."

Grahla gave her a hard stare. "Did you change history?" she asked accusingly.

Amelia shrugged. "I don't know. _You_ were female when I left."

"Thank the Divines," said Grahla. "I was afraid we'd lost you. According to legend, when Sir Relin killed Faolchu, the armor shattered. Relin died."

"Maybe I _did_ change history. When I left, he had no name. The armor did shatter, but today it was in the crypt, fully intact."

Grahla shrugged. "Another mystery. Direnni magic, perhaps?"

"Or Alyeid. The Alyeid king was at the battle, and he recognized that I was out of place."

"Interesting. Well, Alana is in the tent; she'll want a full report."

"Alana?"

"Of course. Don't keep her waiting."

Amelia walked cautiously to the tent where she had met Sarvith and Bhagrun, and there inside was a woman nearly identical to the one Relin had loved so long ago.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw Amelia. "What is it?" she asked.

"I'm . . . still trying to catch up."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Sort of. You look just like her."

"I'm her descendant. You know this."

Amelia shook her head. "I think I changed history, because you weren't here when I went onto that battlefield. Instead, it was the ghost of the original Alana, who said she had died out there."

Alana's eyes widened. "But Relin saved her. He chose her over Faolchu and rescued her on the hilltop. So that's why. It was said that Relin fought like he never had that day, that he even breathed fire. Was it you?"

"Maybe."

"And me. I've always felt . . . off . . . like I didn't belong."

"Maybe you didn't belong before, but you do now."

The descendant of Alana and Sir Relin shook her head as if to clear it. "Let's not think about this too much; it'll just confuse us."

"You're telling me. I may never understand what happened to Sarvith and Bhagrun."

Alana ignored the comment. "Did you learn anything while you were giving me . . . gods, while you were rescuing me into existence?"

"I found what we were looking for. Fire weakens Faolchu and makes him vulnerable."

"Fire!" she echoed. "Of course. We must share our knowledge with Camlorn. The Lion Guard has set up a makeshift fort outside the city. Find the commanding officer and tell him what we learned. Knowing Faolchu's weakness might make all the difference."

Amelia nodded. "I'm on my way."

"You should rest first."

"No time."

"Red. _Take_ time. At least an hour."

Amelia realized she hadn't slept or eaten since before she had captured the werewolf at Aldcroft. "Very well, an hour. But don't let me sleep longer than that!"

She dug into her knapsack for some dried meat and cheese, gobbled it down, and found a cot in a nearby tent to curl up on. It was hard to sleep, thinking of Relin and Alana, their baby, and all they had lost that day. He had loved her so deeply; she had felt it. She wondered if he knew how Amelia had changed things. She hoped so, and hoped he rested more peacefully because of it.

Faolchu. He was wreaking havoc out there somewhere now and she had to stop him, but Alana was right: she needed rest. Would she pay the ultimate price like Relin? It was that thought that she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Characters and settings c.2014 Zenimax Online Studios

13


	6. LOS 6 - Two Men

Lady of Storms 6

Two Men

When Amelia approached the camp, it was all she could do not to turn and flee. A large number of Lion Guard soldiers stood outside, and by the gate stood _him_—her father—along with a soldier whose armor suggested he was a Lion Guard officer, and a robed mage, an Altmer who towered over all the Bretons and looked out of place. But she didn't run away. She had meant it when she had told Chamberlain Weller she was no longer afraid of the man. She refused to let him intimidate her ever again.

Even if she _had_ been afraid of her father, the elf, who stared at her openly, intrigued her. She didn't know where it came from, but Amelia had a thing for elves; and this one was gorgeous, with long, dark hair and the scruff of a beard, as though he hadn't shaven in a couple of days. He wore two staves on his back. His ice-blue eyes met hers boldly, and a hint of a smile crossed his lips, one that she returned.

Her father grimaced when she came up. The commander just looked on expectantly.

"Little girl," _he_ barked.

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the elf and regarded _him._ "Old man," she replied in the same tone of voice.

"What are you doing here?"

She turned to the soldier. "I'm looking for the commanding officer."

"You've found him. I'm General Gautier. This is Count Vallanil Stormbringer from Rivenspire."

Amelia nodded to the elf. "Your Excellency. I'm Amelia Degarmo. Red."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Amelia," said the count in less of an Altmer accent than she would have expected. He had evidently been in High Rock for a long time.

"What can I do for you?" the general asked.

"I'm here to help. I know how to defeat Faolchu."

"Another wild theory?" _he_ snapped. "This will be the third one today."

Amelia refused to even look at him. Instead, she continued to address the general. "I've been to Glenumbra Moors. The mages—we—discovered the truth about his death."

"Just stay out of the way for now," said the general. "We have enough to worry about without innocents coming in and getting themselves killed. First we lost Camlorn; then they turned back our offensive. If we can't retake this camp, Faolchu has beaten us."

"I'd rather help than stay out of the way."

"What can you do?"

"I'm a fighter, a mercenary."

The general glanced at _him_ and then back. "Well, if know the difference between a Breton's head and a werewolf's arse, we can use you. The camp is overrun with the beasts. We need to cut through them so we can link up with the rest of our contingent on the other side of the camp."

"I can do that."

"No," said her father. "You will stay out of the way, like he said."

"You don't know me anymore, old man. I'm going in."

"I'll go with you," the count announced.

"I can take care of myself."

His eyes gleamed. "I'm sure you can, but my assistance won't hurt."

"We need to link up with General Mandin at the western gate," said the general. "If we can get to her, we'll rally the troops there. I do want to hear your theories about Faolchu, but if we don't retake this camp, it won't matter. We need to be able to _reach_ Faolchu to defeat him."

Amelia nodded at the general and stepped through the gate, with Count Stormbringer following. She stopped short, a terrible thought crossing her mind, and stepped back through. "It's fire, General," she said. "In case I die in here, somebody should know the secret."

The field was crowded with Lion Guard soldiers and werewolves. Amelia didn't waste any time; she pulled her swords, charged forward, and engaged the nearest werewolf, one of two who were menacing a soldier. Her blades sliced through it, and a lightning bolt from the count took the other one out.

"Where did they all come from?" Amelia wondered, looking around the camp at nearly twenty werewolves.

"I'm sure not all achieved their status voluntarily," the mage told her. "Someone likely turned them and said, 'attack,' and they never even understood that they had a choice. Unfortunately, some of them are probably townspeople who were unlucky enough to be captured."

Amelia uttered the incantation for Empowering Chains, in which a blazing chain shot forth from her hand and pulled the nearest werewolf to her, screaming in agony. "_Do_ they have a choice?" she asked as she danced with the wolf.

The count didn't answer right away because he had dodged out of reach of the flames and was now in combat, but as soon as he put the werewolf down, he came to assist her. "Their will is as free as yours, Amelia. But they are newly turned, they're frightened, convinced they are monsters, and have very little control over their impulses. They're the embodiment of rage, and if the one who turned them tells them to fight, it never occurs to them to say no."

Amelia cut the next werewolf down with ease, and Count Stormbringer's words made her look at the beasts differently. They were so easy to kill because they had no experience. He was right: they were newly turned and had no idea what they were doing. They were just big bundles of rage who didn't know how to control themselves. Bites, claws, and powerful sweeps with their massive hands still did a lot of damage, but against experienced, trained warriors, especially amid throngs of confusion, they were sitting ducks. Their sires were counting on their sheer numbers to help them prevail, but they were little more than fodder. The notion made her falter, and she got knocked to the ground for her hesitation.

She rolled out of the way before the werewolf could pounce on her, but she dropped one of her swords. The werewolf pursued her, and she managed to get a few feet ahead so that she could turn and set her feet, but he didn't reach her again. Blue lightning sizzled over his body, and he fell to the ground with a shriek, revealing Count Stormbringer, who stood behind him.

"Think of them as victims if you must," he said as he picked up her weapon and handed it to her, "but don't make the mistake of showing mercy. They shall not give it to you."

Amelia's eyes widened when she got a better look at him. His robes were torn and blood seeped out from what appeared to be a bite. "Oh, no, Your Excellency."

"Amelia, please, call me Vallanil. And don't worry about the bite; it won't affect me."

"How can it not affect you?"

"Just trust me. I'll be fine."

The numbers finally dwindled, and they were able to get the troops to the other side to meet up with General Mandin.

She was a mage, younger than Amelia would have thought for a general, and quite surprised to see them. "How did you get here?" she asked.

"We cleared the field," Amelia responded. "General Gautier's troops are right behind us."

"Excellent. We have a full company here, and we're ready."

Amelia and Vallanil returned to General Gautier with the news. _He_ grimaced at her but somehow managed to keep his mouth shut.

The general, however, was impressed. "Good, good! We watched from the gates; I've never seen anyone so young fight like you."

"Aw, shucks," Vallanil quipped.

Amelia laughed heartily, as did the general. When they finally calmed down, she said, "I'm older than I look."

"Your father told me your age. It's still impressive."

"Where'd you learn to fight like that, little girl?" _he_ asked.

"Practice." She turned to the general. "What's next?"

"Next, we take and hold the courtyard just inside the outer gate, but we can't hold it unless someone locks the inner gate to keep the werewolves from filtering out again. Can you get to the northwest tower and lock it?"

"On my way."

The count went along again, but there was only one werewolf in the courtyard, and they made short work of him. From there, getting to the tower and locking the gate was a simple matter.

"I have to ask," she said as they walked back to the camp. "What are you doing here, besides defending me?"

"I'm here to assist Camlorn's alchemist," he told her. "He believes he may have discovered a cure."

The news heartened Amelia as she thought of the Duke. Perhaps they could save him after all. "That's great. And you?"

"I come bearing gifts. I brought him some herbs that should help with his mixture."

"You came all the way from Rivenspire for that? Couldn't you have just sent a courier?"

Vallanil shrugged. "I could have. But I felt the urgency of the matter required personal attention. Besides, if I had sent a courier, I would not have met you."

Amelia's cheeks turned hot, and she looked humbly at the ground.

When they returned to the general, he was surveying his numbers. He spoke earnestly with Amelia's father, who nodded and left the courtyard.

"We don't have enough troops here," Gautier said when they stepped up. "Your father is heading back to Aldcroft for reinforcements. We can hold this position, but until he returns, we don't have the forces to take the city back. In the meantime, I need to reach my son."

"Where is your son?"

"Darien serves as Camlorn's Captain of the Guard. We heard he has a contingent still inside the city. If we can get to him, our chances improve dramatically. Darien carries the master key to the city gates. With that key, we can open the central and eastern gates at the same time, allowing us to attack from two sides."

"I'll find your son." She turned to Vallanil. "I'm going to be sneaking through, and though I value your help, I'll move faster on my own."

An amused smile crossed his lips. "Understood. Just be careful. I have something for you." He reached into his knapsack, pulled out a leather pouch, and handed it to her. "These are the herbs I mentioned. If Darien is still alive, Alinon is likely with him."

"I'll get the herbs to him."

Vallanil reached out and touched her shoulder, gazing into her eyes. "Be careful in there, sweet Amelia."

"I-I will," she stammered, struck by his piercing gaze. "I promise."

General Gautier said, "Take the side gate into the city; it's a minor gate, unlocked, and obviously the werewolves haven't discovered it. From there, you should check the temple or the inn. They're both large enough to set up in."

"Will do."

Giving the count one last glance, Amelia headed to the side gate and entered the city. It was in shambles, with burned out buildings and bodies strewn all over. The smell of smoke was pervasive, but it didn't cover the odor of death. So many had lost their lives here, and they lay on the cobblestones in pieces, intestines spilling out onto the ground, the stench of blood and feces wafting around their bodies. Others were currently serving as food for the werewolves who dotted the street.

There were too many to fight on her own, so she snuck through as best she could, only engaging two werewolves between the gate and the temple. She also found herself sneaking around Bloodthorn Cultists. They stood on the corners, sometimes with werewolves, and talked about Faolchu and Angof as if they were old friends. She killed one who stood alone near the doors of the temple and then ascended the stairs.

She did indeed find the guards in the temple, and Darien Gautier stood among them in all his glory. He was in his early thirties, very handsome, with dark hair, green eyes, and a strong jaw, and he knew it. She could tell just by the way he stood. He was going to be a problem.

"Why, hello, there," he said with a broad smile. "What brings you to our pleasant little city? The war, the blood? The thrice-damned werewolves?"

"Sightseeing," she responded.

"Well, there's certainly a lot to see."

"Don't forget the Bloodthorn Cultists."

With that, the smile dropped. "They appeared at the same time as the werewolves. They may have even opened the gates for them. The bastards were organized, and they executed their plan perfectly. City didn't stand a chance."

"Captain, your father sent me for your master key."

"Did he, now? I thought he might have sent you to get us out, which is impossible with all the beautiful women left to rescue."

Amelia just looked at him in response.

"In all seriousness, there are still townsfolk in danger, and I won't let the troops in before I get them to safety. The inn is nearby, and it's well stocked, so we should be able to set up there."

"Let's do it, then."

"One problem: the inn is locked. The innkeeper was on his way here, but he was attacked and killed before he could reach us."

"And he has the key. Where is he?"

Darien gave her an amused smile. "Are you volunteering?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Think you can handle it?" he asked with a wink.

"Better than you."

"A lady with confidence, and the stones to get here from the gate on her own. I like it! Check between here and the inn. Big man, wears a blue apron all the time. If you get the key, go into the inn and light a candle in the upper window as a signal. I can see it from here, and I'll start to move people to the inn. If you can't find him . . . can you pick a lock?"

"Of course. Before I go, I need to see Alinon. Is he here?"

Darien nodded. "He's in the back, by the altar, treating the injured."

Amelia found the alchemist, a skinny, fortyish man with prominent mutton chops, kneeling over a patient.

"Unless you're injured, I don't have time for you," he muttered, not looking up from the patient.

She produced the pouch of herbs. "These are from Count Vallanil Stormbringer."

He looked up and took the pouch. "Now, don't ask me to ensure that this cure will work. It's experimental, and Faolchu's spawn are resilient."

"But you _can_ make a cure?"

"Well, not here, I can't. I'll take care of it when you get us into the inn."

"I'm on my way now."

She left the temple and made her way toward the inn, fighting werewolves and cultists as she encountered them. She sustained a painful burn from a fire mage before taking her down, but the werewolves in town were just as easy to kill as those on the field had been. Before long, she found the innkeeper. He hadn't made it far; he was lying on the grass just behind the inn, his body a mess of blood and body parts. Amelia cringed as she moved some of his intestines out of the way to reach his pocket. "I'm sorry," she moaned at the invasion. But she found the key, snuck around the side of the inn, and let herself inside.

The inn, fortunately, was deserted, and she made haste to the second floor, where she lit a candle in the window. Then she went outside to run interference with the werewolves and Bloodthorns while Darien got the townspeople to safety. She sustained more injuries while she fought, and by the time she followed the rest of the town into the inn, her skin was stinging and she was fighting for breath.

"Sit down and rest," said Darien. He handed her a couple of healing potions. "You did great getting us in here, and you have my thanks. But we're not done yet."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"We need weapons for the citizens to protect themselves. There is a cache of guard supplies nearby. Think you're up to another errand?"

She didn't answer until she had downed both of the potions he had given her and the burns and bruises started to mend. "I'll need help. I can't carry a box and fight at the same time."

"I'll go with you."

The captain accompanied her out of the inn and down the street toward a small, burned-out building. Two Bloodthorns stood in the doorway, and they each engaged one. Darien might have been arrogant, but his fighting skills were impressive, and the cultists didn't last long. They entered the building and Darien went to the back to retrieve a heavy trunk.

"You're on your own with the next fight," he said.

"No problem. Let's go."

They encountered a werewolf and a cultist on the way back, and Darien dropped the cache to help with the fight despite his words. "Don't tell anyone I did that," he whispered conspiratorially when the fight was over. "I have a rep to protect."

"Your secret is safe with me," she assured him.

"WHO IS THAT WANDERING AROUND MY CITY?" came a bellowing voice. Amelia recognized the voice from her time travel experience. It was Faolchu.

"Looks like we've attracted his attention," said Darien. "Let's get off the street."

When they got the cache inside, he said, "Well done. When all this is over, the first drink is on me."

"But first, we need to unlock those gates. Your father wants to come in two entrances and surround them."

"A bold plan, especially with Faolchu hunting for us."

Alinon approached with a handful of small bottles. "The cure," he said.

"What do I do?" Amelia asked him.

"Weaken a werewolf, and then throw this to the ground and break the bottle; the vapors should do it. I doubt you can get them to drink it. If it works, send them back here."

"Watch yourself . . . I don't even know your name," Darien said.

"It's Red."

"Watch yourself out there, Red."

She handed Alinon back one bottle. "This is for Duke Sebastien."

Alinon nodded. "Understood. Now, go."

Amelia tucked the bottles into her belt for easy access, then went back out into the streets, hoping she didn't meet up with Faolchu himself. She engaged the first werewolf she encountered, weakened it with a few swipes of her sword, and then threw the potion at its feet. Strong, pungent vapors wafted up quickly and surrounded the beast, who inhaled them and began to scream. Within seconds, the wolf began to recede, and after a minute or so, a very confused, naked, but largely uninjured human stood before her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Just get to the inn," she said. "They'll explain everything there."

He ran toward the inn, and Amelia headed for the next werewolf. Not all of the encounters were as simple as the first, and before she was finished, she had killed three and cured five. More werewolves still roamed Camlorn, but she had no more potions, so she went back to the inn.

"It worked," she told Alinon.

"I see that. I just regret that I won't be able to make more until we're out of here."

Amelia nodded and went to Darien. "All right, what's next?"

"What's next is I go to the gate and let my father in, and you go confront Faolchu. While you were out, I sent scouts. He's holed up in the manor house."

Her heart wrenched, and she swallowed a huge lump in her throat. "By myself? Are you serious?"

"Just keep him busy until the troops can take the city. Then we'll be there to help."

"Well, I know how to defeat him. He's vulnerable to fire."

"Oh, we can give you fire. Our archers will light the place up. I've seen you fight, Red; you can do this. Just hold him off until we can get there."

Amelia sighed. "All right. I'll do what I can."

It seemed every cultist and werewolf knew she was headed for Faolchu, because the streets between the inn and the manor were empty. Amelia almost wished she had someone to fight on the way; it would keep her mind busy. Instead, all she could do was think. She was irrationally afraid of Faolchu, and she dreaded going head to head with him, even though she had already done it once. She knew his weakness, and she had easily defeated him in the body of Sir Relin. She could do this. So why was she so terrified?

Amelia's hands had a slight tremor as she opened the door of the manor. When she entered the antechamber, she heard voices. Faolchu wasn't alone. She moved toward the door and peered around it to see the spectral image of Angof standing before the huge werewolf, who stood on the dais at the head of the great hall.

The great hall was mostly destroyed, the ceiling completely gone and small piles of flaming rubble lying about. She made note of the fires with the intention of using them in the fight.

"Begone, Angof!" Faolchu snarled. "I did your bidding; now leave me be."

"You are still my creature, slave," said Angof. "I made you."

"I devoured Camlorn! All of Glenumbra will be mine."

"The Lion Guard stands at your door. You have failed."

"They are weak and I will crush them. Camlorn is mine!"

"You will see, beast. You will see."

The vision of Angof faded, and Faolchu looked toward the door. "I can smell you, human. There's no point in hiding."

Amelia took a deep breath, then stepped into the room and drew her swords. She muttered the Empowering Chains incantation, and the flaming chain shot out from her hand. It didn't pull Faolchu toward her, but he screamed in pain at the flames. Then he charged her.

Amelia stepped back, keeping her swords in front of her as she stabbed and swiped at him, making only superficial cuts. He leveled a claw at her and caught her in the shoulder, sending her flying. She landed on a pile of rubble and lay there motionless for a moment, dazed. But she didn't have the luxury of languishing because he was heading her way, so she shook away the cobwebs and got back up. When she closed the distance between them, she cast her Inferno spell, and again he shrieked when flames covered him and set his fur ablaze. He doubled over with pain, and Amelia got in a couple of good strikes with the sword before he recovered and came at her, carefully dodging the small fireball that still floated around her, a lingering part of the spell.

Her head swill swam, but as she fought him her terror started to wane, the thrill of battle taking its place. Every now and then the fireball flashed out at Faolchu, engulfing him once again. The Lion Guard's archers arrived and started lobbing flaming arrows into the building. Unfortunately, she got singed, too, as she moved through the arrows, but the effect was much more devastating to the werewolf.

"NO!" Faolchu screamed as his fur was set alight once again. But he still gave chase.

Amelia led him to one of the burning piles of rubble, and she dodged as he came at her, sending him clattering into the flames. He screeched, but he still got up and kept coming.

"You won't defeat me with flames this time. I'm stronger!"

But he wasn't. He was weakening quickly, and Amelia could see it. The next time the small fireball lashed out flames at him, he doubled over again, and Amelia set upon him with both blades. Instead of fighting back, he threw his arms up defensively and leapt backward, crying out in pain and—amazingly—fear. Amelia made a quick dash and dove forward, leading with both swords. She jammed a blade securely in each of his shoulders, and used her momentum to vault over the werewolf. She landed behind him and, pulling powerfully on each sword, cleanly sheared Faolchu's head from his body. He wouldn't come back this time.

Exhausted, she sat down on the floor with the severed head in her lap and listened to the silence. It was as quiet as a chapel; even the sounds from outside didn't penetrate the stillness. Then someone opened the outside door and entered the building. Count Vallanil Stormbringer came around the corner.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"Aye. Just a bit tired."

"He shouldn't have sent you in here alone."

"Perhaps, but I handled it."

"You certainly did." He reached out his hand for her, and she grabbed hold and pulled herself up, still holding onto the head.

"Souvenir?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No." With that, she chucked it onto a nearby pile of flaming rubble.

He pulled one of the two staves on his back and waved it over her, its healing light helping the scrapes and burns subside once more. "I don't know if it matters or not," he said softly, "but your father was quite impressed with what you did."

"It _doesn't_ matter," Amelia replied coldly. "Let's go."

General Gautier met them at the door. "My friend, you did it. We had lost the war until you came and showed us the way to victory."

"Do you know why they were so interested in Camlorn, General?"

"My only guess is they sought to break the Lion Guard, divide our forces. We're spread thin as it is. If we had a few more people like you, we might just have a chance. My son will want to talk to you."

She nodded her thanks, then turned to Vallanil. "Thank you for all your help, Count—Vallanil."

"I hope to see you again soon, sweet Amelia." With that, he took her hand and kissed it.

She blushed again, then nodded her goodbye and went to seek Darien out. On the way, she passed Duke Sebastien. He stopped and bowed his head to her.

"Thank you, Red. I was harsh with you when last we met, and I apologize. You've saved me."

"No need to apologize; I understood why you were upset. But it wasn't me who saved you. It was Alinon and Count Stormbringer. And Gloria."

"Had you not sent Gloria to Camlorn with me, I would be lost. I'll never forget that."

Amelia smiled at him. "I'm glad I could help. So what now?"

The duke sighed and surveyed the area around him. "We rebuild. Camlorn has strong, hearty people. It won't take long."

"Good luck, Your Grace."

She found Darien kneeling next to a townsperson, speaking to her earnestly, apologizing for allowing this to happen in his city, and promising to make it up to her. Amelia tapped him on the shoulder. "Your father sent me to speak with you," she said.

Darien stood up with a smile. "I wanted to thank you personally, Red. We might have been able to retake Camlorn without your help, but it wouldn't have been quick, and it wouldn't have been pretty. You saved lives, and it's not something I'll soon forget. You were an inspiration. And I should know because I'm pretty inspirational myself."

She felt the burning need to swat him on the arm, and she did so. "Darien, you sent me after Faolchu alone!"

"And you came out victorious, no? I'd say you were the right woman for the job. You should go back to the inn and get some rest, though. You look terrible."

"Hey, thanks."

"I'm resigning from the guard," he announced. "They need builders now, not soldiers, and Angof is still out there. Unless, of course, you'd like to tempt me with a drink before we get back to it."

"When this is over with, you're on. But let's stay focused for now."

"Well, then! All the more reason for me to get out there and deal with this Angof fellow once and for all!" He turned serious. "The werewolves slipped in on my watch. I need to make amends for that."

Amelia nodded. "I'm going after him too."

"First one to reach Angof buys the wine!"

"Any idea where to start looking?"

"A squad of Lion Guard soldiers has tracked him to Cath Bedraud. Go to the redoubt just north of here and talk to the commander there."

"Take care, Darien."

"Always do. Myself and everyone else. I'll be looking forward to that drink, Red."

As Amelia headed back to the inn, she couldn't help thinking of the two men she had met today. Both were exceptional, but though she could have lost herself in Vallanil Stormbringer's eyes, Darien was more accessible. Vallanil was a noble, for Divines' sake. It didn't matter either way, though, because she had more important things to worry about than men.

Back at the inn, she drank another healing potion and went to find a bed, turning her thoughts away from her frivolous love life. The people she had met today had said her fighting skills were impressive. Vallanil had said even her father was impressed. How did that happen? Perhaps the assistance of the Guardians went farther than she had thought. She just had to be sure not to get overconfident. Confidence was good, but being cocky would get you killed.

* * *

Characters and settings c.2014 Zenimax Online Studios


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